BOOKS  BY 
CHARLES  RANN  KENNEDY 

THE  IDOL-BREAKER.     Portrait net  $1.25 

THE  SERVANT  IN  THE  HOUSE.     Ill'd 1.25 

THE  WINTERPEAST.     Ill'd '  *  1^25 

THE  TERRIBLE  MEEK.      Frontispiece net  1.00 

THE  NECESSARY  EVIL nei  i  QO 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK 


THE 
IDOL-BREAKER 

A  PLAY  OF  THE  PRESENT  DAY  IN  FIVE  ACTS 
SCENE  INDIVIDABLE,  SETTING  FORTH  THE  STORY 
OF  A  MORNING  IN  THE  RIPENING  SUMMER 

BY 

CHARLES   RANN   KENNEDY 


AUTHOR  OF 
"THE  SERVANT  IN  THE  HOUSE " 


Behold,  I  have  created  the  smith  that 
btcrweth  the  Jire  of  coals,  and  bringeth 
forth  a  -weapon  for  his  -work  ;  and  I 
have  created  the  -waster  to  destroy 
—Isaiah  liv  16 


HARPER  6r  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

MCMXIV 


ALL  STAGE,  RECITATION,  PUBLICATION,  TRANSLATION 
AND  OTHER  RIGHTS  RESERVED.  APPLICATION 
SHOULD  BE  MADE  TO  MESSRS.  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


76 


COPYRIGHT.    1914,    BY   CHARLES   RANN    KENNEDY 


PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED   STATES   OF  AMERICA 
PUBLISHED    JANUARY,     1914 


TO 

THE   PEOPLE   OF  THE 

UNITED    STATES   OF  AMERICA 

IN   WHOSE  GREAT  COMPANY   I   GAINED   MY   FREEDOM 

NAOMI.  Ay,  you'm  drunk  or  mad  or  got  a  devil,  if  you  dare  to 
shew  them  what's  inside  you.  All  the  same,  sometimes, 
when  the  blood  roars  in  the  heart  .  .  . 

ADAM.  That's  it!  Then  you  get  up  and  begin  to  tell  them  things! 

THE  AUTHOR 


285744 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

ADAM  A  blacksmith 

NAOMI  A  woman  of  the  highroad 

ELLEN  A  woman  of  Little  Boswell 

NATHANIEL  DANK  A  lawyer 

SAMUEL  SNARK  A  man  of  letters 

JEREMIAH  JONES  An  ironmonger 

JAKE  A  wastrel 

THE  PLACE 
INTERIOR  OF  THE  SMITHY  OF  LITTLE  BOSWELL 

THE  TIME 

BETWEEN  THE  HOURS  OF  FOUR  AND  HALF  PAST  Six 
ON  A  MORNING  IN  RIPENING  SUMMER.    TODAY 


THE    SCENE 

The  Tired  Business  Man  is  politely  requested  for 
the  purpose  of  this  description,  to  consider  himself 
a  Little  Boswellite.  He  is  seated  comfortably  in  the 
market-square  he  loves  so  well,  contemplating 
reality  at  last  through  a  large  open  Imaginary  Win 
dow;  and  waiting  to  be  amused.  Around  him  is  a 
jumble  of  houses,  hucksteries,  brothels,  a  well-built 
prison,  pigsties,  libraries,  beer-shops,  and  a  place 
of  worship.  It  is  where  he  lives:  his  pride:  to 
apply  the  touching  panegyric  of  the  poet,  it  is  his 
own,  his  native  Little  Boswell.  Behind  him,  dotted 
with  disused  lead  mines  and  other  marks  of  ancient 
toil,  rises  a  lofty  hill:  the  crest  of  which,  formerly  a 
Roman  Camp — long  since  gone  to  dust — now  flut 
ters  a  beautiful  new  flag.  From  time  to  time,  the 
Clock  overhead,  belonging  to  the  big  Sunday  School, 
vouchsafes — untruthfully — the  hour.  Above  that, 
dawns  God's  day. 

2  [9] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


The  strain  upon  his  imagination  now  relaxed,  the 
Weary  One  will  next  please  look  in  front  of  him, 
digest  his  victuals,  and  be  amused. 

IT    IS    THE    INTERIOR    OF    THE    SMITHY    OF    LlTTLE 

BOSWELL.  A  place  prodigious  with  many  labours: 
the  womb  of  things  about  to  be  born.  The  Building 
is  of  rough-hewn  stones  and  huge  oak  timbers. 

The  BACK  WALL  presents  three  interests.  Glanc 
ing  from  left  to  right,  these  are :  the  Long  Window, 
the  Big  Door,  and  the  Forge.  The  Long  Window  is 
low,  silled  and  mullioned.  The  Big  Door  is  Dutch, 
deeply  embrasured,  and  before  daybreak  the  Porch 
beyond  it  caverns  it  with  shadows.  The  Forge, 
gaunt,  grimy,  cowled,  has  a  base  of  boulders  clamped 
with  iron :  its  chimney  clambering  crookedly  through 
augmenting  glooms  into  the  roof.  The  Handle  of 
the  Bellows  in  the  corner  juts  out  like  a  jib-boom. 

Through  the  openings  may  be  seen  the  Highroad, 
bounded  over  the  way  by  a  low  Cobble  Wall:  above 
that,  a  rise  of  Green  Field;  and  beyond,  a  wild  of 
Purple  Moors  stretching  away  into  the  skies. 

In  the  further  end  of  the  LEFT  WALL  is  another 
door,  heavily  chained  and  padlocked.  Its  approach 

[10] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


is  cluttered  with  green  and  rusty  dumps  of  smelted 
metal.     This  is  the  Door  of  the  Inner  Workshop. 

In  the  nearer  end  of  the  RIGHT  WALL  is  another 
window,  smaller  than  the  first,  though  of  good  size. 
It  is  open,  hollyhocks  and  geraniums  jostling  through 
it  from  outside.  Let  this  be  called  the  Open  Window, 
to  distinguish  it  from  the  Long  Window  at  the  back, 
and  the  Imaginary  Window  in  front. 

The  Anvil  occupies  the  middle  of  the  floor.  The 
fierce  blue  steel  gleams  in  the  dawn  like  anger. 
Upright  beside  it,  stands  the  Sledge  Hammer — a 
warrior,  waiting. 

There  are  no  conveniences  for  sitting  down;  but 
left  of  the  anvil  is  a  Yellow  Box,  overturned,  labelled 
Empire  Mustard.  Further  on,  a  Wheelbarrow,  laden 
at  one  end  with  Bricks.  A  Carpenter's  Horse  by 
the  open  window  might  serve  a  straddle.  Above 
the  mustard-box,  a  Nail-keg  with  protruding  spikes 
invites  the  unwary;  and  a  Ploughshare  offers  hos 
pitably  from  the  debris  below  the  long  low  window. 

A  Butcher's  Knife  lies  on  the  Grindstone  by  the 
bellows.  A  Leathern  Apron  hangs  by  the  big  door. 

In] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Beneath  the  open  window  is  a  Work-bench,  covered 
with  Tools  and  Diagrams.  Nearby,  a  Scarlet  Poster 
proclaims  some  socialist  meeting.  Karl  Marx  in 
lithograph  decorates  the  inner  workshop  door. 

The  Floor,  rugged  with  lavas,  is  a  record  of  erup 
tive  throes.  Ochres,  indigo,  emerald,  here  and  there 
bright  splashes  of  crimson.  Along  the  walls,  on  the 
shelves,  high  up  in  the  rafters,  demonic  shapes  and 
twistings  in  steel,  in  lead,  in  iron.  Things  formed 
and  half  formed:  things  in  their  first  imagining: 
things  scrapped  and  cast  aside.  Inextricable  min- 
glings.  Nor  metal  only.  There  are  bricks,  cement, 
a  drain-pipe,  implements  for  digging,  quarrying. 
Tools  for  carpentry.  Paint-pots,  flower-pots.  Cart 
wheels  and  the  yoking  gear  of  cattle.  Books,  even. 
Books!  And  a  gigantic  Hammer  swung  by  chains 
above  the  yawning  doorway. 

Clearly,  the  litter  of  some  portentous  labour:  the 
womb  of  some  impregnate  monster,  now  ripe  and  big 
with  child. 

THE    LIGHTING 

The  First  Act  commences  in  utter  darkness,  pass 
ing  through  grey  to  white  dawn.  The  Second  Act 

[12] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


is  a  white  dawn,  ending  in  sunrise.  The  Third  Act 
is  clear  but  clouded  day.  The  Fourth  Act,  a  thun 
der-flame  of  blood  and  burning  bronze.  The  Fifth 
Act,  golden  sunlight. 

The  events  taking  place  between  four  in  the  morn 
ing  and  six-thirty,  half  an  hour  is  supposed  to  elapse 
during  each  act;  as  the  clock  indicates. 

The  Sunlight  comes  by  way  of  the  Open  Window: 
as  also,  the  Imaginary  Window  of  our  Jaded  Brother. 


THE    COSTUMES 

NAOMI  glows  one  hue  from  head  to  foot;  and  wears 
ear-rings  like  a  gipsy.  ADAM,  in  russet-browns  and 
tans:  gaitered,  aproned.  JAKE  is  like  a  lizard,  in 
dusty  green,  corduroyed,  gaitered,  with  a  mole-skin 
cap  and  waistcoat,  and  a  red  rag  for  neckerchief. 
He  wears  ear-rings. 

The  others  dress  in  modes  appropriate  to  their 
rank  in  Little  Boswell.  ELLEN  is  in  gingham,  cover 
ing  her  head  with  a  shawl.  NATHANIEL  DANK  goes 
gingerly  in  pepper  and  salt.  SAMUEL  SNARK  sports 

[13] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


check.  JEREMIAH  JONES,  being  an  imitative  soul, 
affects  the  ministerial;  but  will  probably  don  a 
leathern  apron  hereafter. 


THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  CLOCK 

The  Bells  representing  this  clock  are  built  in  the 
ceiling  of  the  auditorium,  and  are  worked  from  below 
by  electricity.  There  are  three  notes  only,  two  for 
the  quarters  and  one  for  the  hour,  all  dismally  out 
of  tune. 


The   Music   informing   this   play   is    Beethoven, 
pianoforte  sonata,  Opus  in. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


THE    FIRST   ACT 

The  Curtain  rises  upon  darkness  as  the  big  Sunday 
School  clock  overhead  drones  four.  This  is  followed  by  a 
long  silence.  Out  of  it  then  comes  the  shrill  high  cry 
of  a  cock  crowing.  It  sounds  like  a  triumphant  jeer. 
A  glimmering  dawn  creeps  in,  quickening  imperceptibly. 
The  smithy  appears  as  in  a  vapour. 

A  man  passes  the  long  window.  For  a  moment,  his 
great  bulk  blots  out  the  dawn.  There  is  heard  a  fum 
bling  at  the  door,  and  the  man  comes  lumbering  in.  Hat- 
less,  coatless.  It  is  ADAM. 

Plucking  the  leathern  apron  from  its  peg,  he  drags 
it  on.  Rolls  up  his  sleeves.  Shuts  to  and  bolts  the 
lower  half  of  the  door.  Then  tries  the  bellows  of  the 
forge:  the  banked  embers  give  back  a  sullen  glow.  He 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


moves  to  the  anvil  and  paws  gloomily  the  sledge  ham 
mer.  Lifts  it,  deep  in  thought.  Then  brings  it  clam 
ouring  down  upon  the  anvil.  It  is  like  a  shout  in 
iron. 

ADAM.  God!     I'd  like  to  break  something. 

A  woman  stands  in  the  deep  shadows 
of  the  big  doorway,  watching  him. 
Her  face  is  dimly  visible.  It  is 
NAOMI. 

ADAM  kicks  the  sledge  aside,  sits  on 
the  anvil  and  lights  his  pipe. 

It's  the  place,  that's  what  it  is.  Places 
like  this  breed  slaves.  That's  why  we 
blather  so  much  about  our  freedom. 

NAOMI.    Talking  to  yourself?     I  thought  it  was  on'y 
play-folk  as  did  a  thing  like  that. 

He  turns,  startled  at  the  voice. 

What's    the   matter   with   you,  master? 
Got  some  maggot  in  your  head? 
[16] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      Where  the  plague  did  you  drop  from? 
NAOMI.    Me  ?    Oh,  from  out  of  the  clouds. 

ADAM.      I  think  you  did.     I  never  set  eyes  on  you 
before. 

NAOMI.    Didn't  you?    I  set  eyes  on  you  though. 
ADAM.     I  don't  remember.     When? 

NAOMI.    Last  night.     Up  on  the  moor  yonder. 

We  were  kind  of  bedfellows,  you  and  me, 
last  night:  on'y  you  didn't  know  it. 

He  takes  this  in  before  speaking; 
ADAM.      Last  night!    Why,  last  night,  I  was  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  Yes,  I  seen  you.     I  was  on  the  other  side  of 
the  hedge. 

ADAM.      What   were    you    doing,    out    after    mid 
night  ? 

NAOMI.    Watching  you. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  I  heard  something,  too.  I  took  it  for  some 
wild  thing  stirring  in  the  dark. 

NAOMI.    It  was  me,  watching. 

ADAM       (uneasily).  How  do  you  mean — watching? 

NAOMI.  Don't  you  know  as  all  wild  things  watch 
men?  They  been  at  it  a  long  time — since 
the  beginning  of  the  world.  I  tell  you,  they 
get  to  learn  a  lot  about  men,  afore  they  done. 

ADAM.  Other  side  of  the  hedge,  eh  ?  Why  didn't 
you  speak? 

NAOMI.  I  did.  All  night  long. 
ADAM.  I  never  heard  a  word. 
NAOMI.  There  wasn't  a  word. 

Her  eyes  shine  out  from  the  shadows. 

ADAM.      If  you  want  to  know  anything,  I  wasn't 
properly  myself,  last  night.     I  was  drunk, 
that's  what  I  was.     Yes,  I  was :  dead  drunk ! 
fi81 


THE   IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    Well,  I  known  that  kind  too,  in  my  life. 
ADAM.     It's  the  only  way  to  be  free. 

NAOMI.  Ay,  a  many  of  them  said  so,  one  time  and 
another,  the  way  I  come. 

ADAM.     What  way  might  that  be  ? 

NAOMI.  I  come  a  goodish  way  to  get  here.  I  don't 
know  as  I  could  find  it  again  myself!  .  .  . 
Not  even  if  I  wanted.  It  would  take  a 
bloodhound  to  follow  me,  the  way  I 
come. 

ADAM.     Humph!    Expecting  one? 
NAOMI.   Not  this  journey. 

He  is  drawn  a  little  nearer  to  her. 
ADAM.     You're  a  gipsy  woman. 
NAOMI.   Ami? 

ADAM.     Yes,  I've  seen  your  sort  before.     There's 

[19] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


lots  on  'em  tramp  up  and  down  this  way  on 
the  highroad. 

NAOMI.  My  sort,  were  they?  What's — your  sort? 
...  Or  are  bastards  a  kind  of  no  sort,  like 
me? 

He  is  taken  aback  for  a  moment. 

ADAM.  Well,  and  if  I  am  one!  You  had  nothing  to 
do  with  my  birth. 

NAOMI.  You  don't  know  that.  The  stars  have 
something  to  say  about  that,  maybe. 

ADAM.      One  of  them  fortune  tellers,  eh  ?  ... 

Funny,  you  should  mention  stars,  too.  I 
was  thinking  of  stars  all  night  long.  Them 
and  the  morning  dew  between  them  so 
bered  me  up. 

Here !     How  did  you  tell  I  were  a  bastard  ? 

NAOMI.    I  seen  it,  like  it  were  wrote. 

ADAM.      Where  did  you  learn  to  see  a  thing  like  that  ? 

NAOMI.    On  the  other  side  of  the  hedge. 

(20] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He  is  drawn  nearer  still. 

ADAM.  There's  one  thing  plain  to  me.  Your  sort 
never  come  out  of  Little  Boswell. 

NAOMI.    Maybe  I  missed  something.     What  is  it? 

ADAM.  Look  around  you,  far  as  you  can  see. 
That's  Little  Boswell!  All  them  dummy- 
heads  sleeping  out  there — man,  woman  and 
child.  They're  Little  Boswell!  My  God,' 
you'd  know  it  right  enough,  if  you  belonged. 

NAOMI.  But  you  don't  belong.  Bastards  don't  be 
long.  Don't  that  seem  to  lift  you  up  a  bit  ? 

ADAM.  Ay  sometimes,  inside  of  me,  here.  But 
Lord  bless  you,  they  don't  understand 
pride. 

Come  inside,  woman.     I'll  tell  you  some 
thing. 

He  makes  to  undo  the  bolt.     She  is 
watching  him  steadily. 

NAOMI.    Do  you  want  me? 

[21] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      Why  yes,  didn't  you  hear  me  ask  you  to  ... 

And  their  eyes  meet. 
Yes,  I  want  you. 

The  door  is  open.  She  moves  softly 
to  the  anvil  and  sits.  Her  garments 
flush  through  the  grey  dawn  like 
flame. 

AD  AM  seats  himself  on  the  mustard-box. 
NAOMI.  Now,  master.     What's  your  misery? 
ADAM.      I'll  tell  you.     Look  through  yon  window. 

He  means  the  imaginary  one  in  front. 

See  them  little  brown  heaps,  up  and  down 
the  hillside?  Them's  lead  mines.  Been 
worked  ever  since  the  Romans  were  here. 
It  was  Romans  first  set  Little  Boswell  going; 
and  they  begun  by  riddling  yon  hill  with 
mines. 

Maybe,  you  think  lead  mines  mean  noth- 
[22] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ing  but  holes  in  the  earth  with  lumps  of 
lead  at  the  bottom  of  them.  They  mean 
more  than  that.  Something  alive.  Crawl 
ing  on  the  belly  in  the  dark,  like  blind- 
worms.  When  the  Romans  were  here, 
they  meant — Slaves!  Hundreds  of  years 
ago,  that  was;  but  the  blood  of  them  slaves 
has  been  running  down  into  these  valleys 
ever  since.  Some  of  it's  bubbling  up  inside 
me  now. 

Slave's  blood! — That's  my  misery.  We 
can't  get  clean  of  it.  Oh,  you  wouldn't 
think  it,  not  to  hear  us  talk.  You'd  think 
we  were  God's  own  people  in  the  Promised 
Land.  See  that  thing  flapping  up  yonder 
on  the  hilltop  ?  That's  our  flag.  Want  to 
know  what  that  stands  for? — Freedom! 

It  is  not  visible;   but  it  is  a  little  like 
every  flag  on  earth. 

NAOMI.  Ay,  it  looks  fine,  blowing  there  on  the  wind. 

ADAM.      Ay — on  the  wind! 

That's    where    I'm    different    to    them. 
Dead  words  don't  mean  nothing  to  me. 
[23] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


It's  the  bastard  in  me,  I  suppose.     That 
and  the  work  I  got  to  do. 

NAOMI.    Ay,  what  work  is  that,  master? 
ADAM.     I'm  like  God.     I  make  things. 

She  searches  him  calmly  like  a  child. 

NAOMI.  I  felt  there  was  something  about  you, 
moment  I  set  eyes  on  you. 

ADAM.      Don't  you  see,  woman?     I'm  a  blacksmith. 
NAOMI.    Ay,  you  talk  like  a  blacksmith. 

ADAM.  I  talk  the  sort  I  am.  There's  more  sorts  of 
blacksmith  in  the  world,  than  them  as 
tinkers  with  bits  of  iron.  There's  the  sort 
as  blows  fire  out  of  their  own  souls.  I'm 
one  of  them.  Before  ironmongers  were,  I 
was :  I  make  living  children.  Why  woman, 
I  tell  you — you  won't  believe  me;  but  I've 
made  ploughs  in  my  time! 

There  is  a  light  in  his  eye. 
[24] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  What,  them  great  hungry  dragons  as  gnaw 
deep  into  the  flesh  of  the  earth  ? 

There  is  a  light  in  hers. 

ADAM.  Yes,  the  worms  and  the  moles  as  burrow 
under  the  sod,  they  know  something  about 
me.  Listen!  I'll  tell  you  something  as '11 
open  your  eyes !  .  .  . 

An  apocalyptic  ecstasy  uplifts  him; 

I  make  tools!  Tools  for  the  lead  mines, 
tools  for  the  quarries  yonder,  drilling  tools, 
tools  for  boring.  They  can't  dig  their  gar 
dens  without  me.  They  come  to  me  for 
their  water  pipes.  I've  built  windmills! 
Why,  I'm  all  over  the  place,  and  they  pass 
by  and  don't  notice  it. 

NAOMI.  Go  on,  master.  I  like  to  watch  iron  forg 
ing. 

ADAM.      It's   inspiration,   that's  what  it  is.     Like 
thoughts  coming  alive.     Only  they  don't 
believe  in  inspiration  nowadays. 
3  [25] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  Ay,  you'm  drunk  or  mad  or  got  a  devil,  if 
you  dare  to  shew  them  what's  inside  you. 
All  the  same,  sometimes,  when  the  blood 
roars  in  the  heart  .  .  . 

ADAM.  That's  it!  Then  you  get  up  and  begin 
to  tell  them  things.  Like  I  done  them 
dummyheads,  six  year  ago.  Like  I  done 
many  times.  Like  I  done  —  only  last 
night. 

She  glances  across,  interrogatively. 

Ay,  down  in  the  big  Sunday  School,  that 
was.     Before  you  and  me  .  .  . 

His  hand  passes  vaguely  over  his  brow. 
.  .  .  Up  on  the  moor  yonder. 
NAOMI.    Sunday  School,  eh? 

ADAM.  It's  the  only  place  of  any  size,  they've  got. 
Properly  speaking,  that's  what  Little  Bos- 
well  is.  Just  a  big  Sunday  School  of  candy- 
puking  kids. 

[26] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  I  shouldn't  a-took  you  for  Sunday  School, 
exactly.  Not  last  night. 

ADAM.  Me!  .  .  .  They'd  soon  let  you  know  what  I 
am!  After  last  night!  Fm  the  blasphem 
ous  swine  as  don't  believe  in  nothing!  That's 
why  God  sometimes  puts  it  inside  me,  to  get 
up  and  tell  them  as  do,  as  they  don't. 

Maybe,  though,  you  didn't  hear  nothing 
of  our  little  love-feast,  down  yonder? 

NAOMI.  I  did  hear  something.  Kind  of  a  bellow 
ing,  wasn't  it? 

ADAM.      That  was  me,  making  myself  popular. 

You  never  saw  such  a  picnic.  Flags  and 
high-cockalorums  all  over  the  Sunday 
School.  Oh,  it  was  religious,  right  enough. 
Plenty  of  scripture  mottoes!  And  drums 
and  hymns  and  prayers  and  ginger-pop,  all 
going  off  together. 

NAOMI.    Why,  what  was  doing,  down  there? 

ADAM.  Grand  High  Jubilee  of  the  Constituted  Sons 
of  Freedom! 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


It's  the  biggest  bean-feast  Little  Boswell 
ever  dreamed  of.  God  Almighty  might 
come  down  from  heaven  and  start  the  Day 
of  Judgment,  and  they  wouldn't  notice  it, 
alongside  their  jubilee.  They've  been  hul- 
labalooing  over  it  since  the  Tower  of  Babel. 
So  I  thought  it  was  about  time  I  come,  and 
put  a  simple  question  to  them:  just  one 
question.  I  asked:  Where  did  bastards 
come  in?  Took  me  exactly  forty-five  min 
utes  by  their  groggy  old  clock. 

NAOMI.    How  did  they  answer  you? 

ADAM.  Like  Sons  of  Freedom.  They  chucked  me 
out. 

NAOMI.  How  did  you  get  even  with  them,  after 
that? 

ADAM.  Hollared  a  few  bad  words  through  the 
vestry  window;  and  went  and  liquored  my 
self  up  to  the  neck.  To  spite  them. 

That's  how  you  come  to  find  me  on  the 
moor. 

The  memory  of  it  holds  them  a  moment. 
[28] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.     It  was  a  hard  bed  up  yonder  in  the  bracken. 

ADAM.  I  got  no  sleep  out  of  it.  I  lay  thinking. 
Something  sort  of — come  to  me,  last  night. 

NAOMI.  It  was  a  clear  night.  There  wasn't  a  cloud 
in  the  sky. 

ADAM  (rapt).  Like  so  many  eyes  looking  into  me, 
that's  what  they  were!  .  .  . 

There's  one  thing  I  can't  make  out. 
What  brought  you  up  yonder? — watching, 
as  you  call  it. 

NAOMI.    The  stars.     And  you  wanted  me. 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
quarter,  as  he  turns  towards  her. 

ADAM.  I — wanted — you?  Why,  until  this  morn 
ing,  I  never  so  much  as  dreamed  such  a 
woman  as  you  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  There's  a  lot  of  dreaming  goes  on  inside  the 
heart,  as  you  never  know  on,  till  the  hour 
strikes. 

[29] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  But  I  don't  know  anything  about  you. 
Don't  even  know  your  name,  where  you 
come  from,  what  you  are  .  .  .  What  are 


you? 


NAOMI.    Do  you  want  to  know?     I  am  a  queen. 

You  wouldn't  think  it,  not  to  look  at 
me,  would  you? 

He  looks  at  her  long  and  earnestly. 
Then  suddenly,  drawing  closer; 

ADAM.     Yes,  I  would!  .  .  . 

But  he  draws  back  before  her  eyes. 

I   always  heard  as  they  had  kings  and 
such-like  over  them. 

NAOMI.    Who? 

ADAM.     The  gipsy  folk. 

She  smiles  inscrutably. 

How  did  you  come  by  it? 

[30] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  By  blood,  from  my  folk.  We  been  a  great 
people  in  our  day:  Egyptian,  Chinee, 
Phoenician. 

ADAM.  Phoenician!  That's  rum,  too.  My  moth 
er's  kin  come  from  Phoenicians.  That  was 
the  name  of  them  dead  men  out  yonder. 
Them  lead  miners. 

NAOMI.  Maybe.  We  went  one  way  and  another, 
all  over  the  world. 

ADAM.  Slaves,  they  were.  Gutted  out  yon  hill  for 
the  Romans. 

NAOMI.  Ours  were  kings.  Builded  cities-  -for  their 
own  treasure. 

ADAM.  Cities!  I  never  heard  as  your  sort  hailed 
from  cities. 

NAOMI.  We  don't  no  longer.  We  belong  nowhere. 
We  just  wander  about  from  place  to  place 
like  blown  dust. 

All  the  same,  we  had  one  of  our  own, 
once. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      What  kind  might  that  be? 

NAOMI.  The  kind  men  builded,  when  they  first 
begun  to  dream  them.  To  store  wealth  in. 
That  was  long  ago. 

It  had  walls  of  marble,  our  city,  and  seven 
big  gates  of  gold.  Shining!  Up  on  a  hill, 
it  was.  So  it  might  be  seen.  It  wasn't 
ashamed  of  itself.  There  was  nothing  to 
hide  in  our  city. 

The  men-folk,  they  were  kings,  and  knew 
it:  they  made  things  with  their  own  hands. 
The  women,  they  were  queens:  they 
brought  forth  living  children.  And  there 
was  bread  enough  for  all  to  eat.  They  say, 
gods  come  by  way  of  our  blood :  gods  with 
flesh  to  them,  as  walked  on  the  earth,  like 
men. 

Then  bad  luck  begun  inside  us,  and  we 
died.  That's  why  we  wandered.  We  been 
wandering  ever  since. 

ADAM.     How  did  you  come  to  die? 


NAOMI. 


We  made  a 
word. 


mistake — a  mistake  about  a 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      What  was  it? 

NAOMI.    Freedom. 

ADAM.      What  do  you  mean  by  freedom? 

NAOMI.    Don't  ask  me.     My  meaning  changes  with 
the  stars. 

ADAM.  What  do  you  mean  now?     Today? 

NAOMI.  What  you  mean. 

ADAM.  What  do  I  mean? 

NAOMI.  Something  wild  like  me. 

ADAM.  You!    Are  you — free? 

NAOMI.  Like  the  wind. 

ADAM.      Why,  woman,  you  are  what  I've  been  look 
ing  for,  all  my  life. 

They   have   both   risen.     They   stand 
facing  each  other. 
[331 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  Well,  I'm  here.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
with  me? 

ADAM.      What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me? 

NAOMI.  I  don't  know.  That's  one  of  the  things  I 
can't  see.  Perhaps  destroy  you. 

ADAM.     Woman ! 

NAOMI.  Don't  you  come  near  me.  There's  danger 
in  me,  if  you  don't  take  me  the  right  way. 
Queens  can't  be  played  with,  same  as  com 
mon  folk.  Not  my  sort. 

ADAM.     Well,  I'm  ready.     I'm  not  afraid. 

NAOMI.  You  don't  understand.  This  isn't  talk 
ing. 

ADAM.  There's  one  thing  I  understand.  It  begun 
the  moment  you  set  foot  inside  this  forge. 
Ay,  and  before  that! — Last  night,  out  yon 
der,  under  the  stars.  We  belong,  you  and 
me!  I  see  it  plain,  like  dawn  coming  up 
out  of  the  night:  we  belong! 

[34] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  Take  care!  You'm  not  the  first  man  I  heard 
say  a  word  like  that. 

ADAM.     Well,  I'm  the  last;   and  I'll  stand  by  it. 

NAOMI.    Keep  off! .  .  . 

ADAM.     Why,  what  would  happen?  .  .  . 

He  stands  hesitating  before  her. 

NAOMI.  There's  something  at  the  back  of  me  you 
know  nothing  about.  Oh,  it's  dead,  it's 
done  for,  sure  enough;  and  yet  .  .  . 

There's  nothing  living  as  can  follow  you 
so  close  as  that! 

ADAM.     Name  it  for  me.     And  I'll  grapple  with  it. 

NAOMI.  I  can't  quite  spell  it  out.  There's  fangs 
to  it.  And  a  baying  along  the  twisted  ways 
of  the  moors!  .  .  . 

He  shakes  himself  free  of  her  eyes. 
ADAM.     What's  dead  and  done  for  don't  move  me. 

[351 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


No,  nor  anything  to  come,  neither.     It's 
now!    That's  all  I  care  about. 

NAOMI.    Ay,  that's  what  they  all  said. 

ADAM.  There's  none  of  Little  Boswell  about  you. 
No  slave's  blood!  You  are  not  all  tied  up 
and  strangled  like  a  trapped  wolf. 

NAOMI.  That's  true.    No  ties,  no  bonds,  the  way  I  go ! 

ADAM.  Out  on  the  highroad  yonder,  that's  your 
way.  Up  hill,  down  dale,  any  path  you 
will!  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  Homeless!  .  .  . 

ADAM.  Masterless!  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  Naked!  .  .  . 

ADAM.  Free!  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  Alone!  .  .  . 

ADAM.      Like  a  wild   thing!    Like  a  young  bird! 

[36] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Why,  woman,  I've  been  waiting  for  this 
moment.  Waiting  for  you.  Now  I  know 
the  way  I  got  to  go. 

NAOMI.    What  way? 

ADAM.      Yonder.     On  the  highroad.     With  you. 

She  gazes  deep   into  his  soul  before 
replying; 

NAOMI.    Well,  you'm  on  that  journey  already.     But 
there's  something  you  forgotten. 

ADAM.      Forgotten  .  .  .     What? 
NAOMI.    The  price. 
ADAM.      Price  what  for? 

NAOMI.    For  me. 

My  sort  set  big  store  by  themselves. 
Queens  don't  give  themselves  for  nothing. 
Not  to  slaves. 

ADAM.      What  .  .  .      What  are  you  asking  of  me? 

[37] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  My  sort  don't  ask.  I  watch;  and  when  the 
hour  strikes  .  .  .  God  help  the  thing  as 
bars  my  way,  when  I  come  to  claim  what's 
owing  me!  That  is,  if  you  don't  take  me 
right. 

What,  back  to  Little  Boswell  again,  so 
soon  ? 

ADAM  (fiercely).  Tell  me  what  it  is  you  want! 
I'll  pay  it,  yes  I  will,  whatever  it  is.  My 
God,  for  you,  woman,  I'd  give  up  every 
thing  I  got. 

NAOMI.    That's  what  it  will  cost. 

ADAM.  Everything !  Did  you  say  everything  ?  .  .  . 
Why  then,  I'll  shew  you  what  I'm  flinging 
away  for  you!  .  .  . 

He  makes  a  movement  towards  the  in 
ner  workshop;   but  turns  half  way; 

When  I  spoke  to  you  just  now  about  them 
tools  I  made,  and  all  them  ploughs  and  other 
wonders,  I  didn't  tell  you  everything:  I 
kept  something  back.  Oh,  I'm  a  slave, 
[38] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


that's  true;  but  Fm  a  bastard — God's 
bastard,  as  holds  Little  Boswell  together: 
the  slave  as  makes  things,  do  you  under 
stand?  Well,  perhaps  I  can  break  them, 
too!  Without  me,  they  shiver  into 
pieces!  .  .  . 

Now  mark  what  I'm  saying  .  .  . 

His  voice  sinks  to  an  awed  whisper; 

Fve  made  something  alive.  It  can  speak. 
It's  the  most  terrible  thing  on  earth:  it 
tells  the  truth.  Comes  from  God:  /  made 
it. 

He  beckons  her  across  mysteriously; 
It's  in  there.    Listen.  D'you  hear  anything? 

She  lays   her  head  to   the  workshop 
door,  lifting  her  hand  for  silence. 

NAOMI.    Something  muffled.     Very  soft.     Like  a  lit 
tle  heart  beating. 

ADAM.     I  put  it  together,  out  of  my  own  life. 

[39] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He  turns  a  scared  look  upon  her; 

Tell  me,  woman,  have  you  ever  borne  a 
child? 

Her  eyes  widen  with  unspoken  thought. 
NAOMI.    I  know  what  you  mean. 

ADAM  (passionately).  Every  pang,  every  agony,  I 
have  known  it!  There  isn't  the  woman 
living  as  can  learn  me  anything  about  it. 
My  child,  do  you  understand?  None  of 
your  Little  Boswell  well-begots;  but  mine! 
The  bastard's!  My  child! 

NAOMI.    I  see!     I  understand! 

ADAM.  The  blood  of  my  heart,  it  was,  as  woke  it 
from  dead  iron.  It's  not  born  yet.  Never 
cried!  No  tongue,  no  voice!  Well  now, 
if  I  leave  all  this  behind  me  ... 

NAOMI.    Turn  back!    There's  death  that  way! 

ADAM.  It's  your  price!  Take  it!  It's  everything 
I  got! 

[40] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  They  perished,  everyone  of  them,  that  road ! 
Turn  back  again! 

ADAM.  I'm  on  the  way  already.  It's  too  late. 
The  stars  have  spoken. 

NAOMI.  Not  so,  by  all  the  flames  and  burning  blood- 
moons  of  the  skies ! 

ADAM.  Bedfellows! — You  yourself  first  spoke  it! 
That  means  as  we  belong.  You,  the 
gipsy  woman  from  God  knows  what  wild 
places  of  the  world,  and  me,  the  Little 
Boswell  bastard!  .  .  .  You've  had  your 
payment.  Now,  what  have  you  got  for 
me? 

She  snatches  up  the  butcher's    knife 
as  he  rushes  madly  towards  her; 

NAOMI.    Stand  back,  or  I'll  knife  you!  .  .  . 

The  man  as  mates  with  me  hereafter 
must  bring  me  living  children.  I'll  have 
no  more  dead  things  born  of  my  flesh. 

ADAM.     What,  afraid?    You — a  wild  thing! 
4 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    Ay:  it's  the  wildness  makes  afraid.     Hark! 

She  is  standing  by  the  open  window. 

ADAM.      What  now?     What  are  you  listening  for? 

NAOMI.  Something  down  the  way  I  come.  I 
thought  .  .  .  Like  the  noise  of  a  hound 
snuffing!  .  .  . 

She  draws  back,  sinking  upon  the  han 
dle  of  the  bellows.  The  quickening 
coals  illumine  her,  and  die  again. 

A  woman  appears  in  the  big  doorway. 
She  has  a  shawl  over  her  head.  It 
is  ELLEN. 

ELLEN.  Thank  God!  I've  been  that  worrited  about 
you!  Where  ha'  you  been  all  night? 

She  comes  to  him  with  a  harassed  look. 
He  takes  her  to  him,  as  in  a  daze. 

ADAM.  I  had  forgotten  you.  You're  Little  Bos- 
well,  too!  .  .  . 

[42] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Didn't  they  tell  you  nothing,  down  there? 
About  me,  last  night? 

ELLEN.  I  never  seen  a  soul  since  you  banged  out  of 
the  house. 

ADAM.      Didn't  you  go  to  the  jubilee? 

ELLEN.  I  hadn't  the  heart,  and  you  spoiling  a  good 
supper  with  your  queer  ways.  Just  be 
cause  a  few  bells  begun  ringing! 

He  growls  ominously. 

(whimpering.)    I  didn't  see  nothing.    Not 
so  much  as  a  bun.     Where  you  been? 

ADAM.  Sprawling  drunk.  Top  of  yon  moor.  Under 
the  stars. 

ELLEN.  Yes,  God  knows  what  might  come  to  you, 
in  them  blear  mists,  alone! 

NAOMI     (rising).  Alone!  .  .  . 

ELLEN  turns  and  sees  her  by  the  forge. 
[43] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.    Who  is  the  woman?     What  is  she  doing 
here? 

NAOMI.    What  are  you  doing  here?     Who  are  you, 
woman  ? 

ELLEN     (bridling).   Me?     I  am  his  wife. 

They  stand  looking  at  each  other  in 
the  white  dawn:  NAOMI,  a  kindling 
beacon,  and  ELLEN  in  gingham. 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
half-hour. 

If  required,  the  CURTAIN  may  de 
scend  at  this  point. 


END   OF  THE   FIRST  ACT 


THE    SECOND   ACT 

The  Scene  and  the  Situation  remain  unchanged. 
The  sun  has  not  yet  risen  over  the  hills.  ELLEN  stands 
by  the  anvil:  ADAM  by  the  wheelbarrow;  and  NAOMI 
by  the  carpenter's  horse.  They  are  silent  for  a  mo 
ment,  the  women  face  to  face. 

NAOMI.  If  I  was  to  tell  you  who  I  am,  you  wouldn't 
be  any  wiser.  Fm  not  Little  Boswell. 
I'm  something  you  never  had  no  dealings 
with  in  your  life. 

ELLEN.  I've  known  gipsy  women  before  now. 
They're  common  enough.  I've  watched 
their  carryings  on  many  a  time  from  my 
parlour  window. 

NAOMI.  You'll  be  watching  a  long  while  from  that 
window,  afore  you  know  me. 

ELLEN.    I'm  not  so  sure  as  I  want  to  know  you. 

[45) 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  All  the  same,  Fm  here.  In  the  same  world 
with  you.  You  can't  blot  me  out  by  shut 
ting  your  eyes. 

ELLEN.    I  don't  know  what  you  mean. 

NAOMI.  That's  what  you  got  to  watch  for:  what  I 
mean. 

ELLEN.  I  didn't  come  here  to  mag  with  you.  I 
come  to  look  for  my  man. 

NAOMI.  Maybe  you'll  find  him.  He's  not  far  off 
yet. 

ELLEN.  Well,  you  may  get  some  on  'em  to  take 
your  meaning:  7  can't  follow  a  single  word 
you  say. 

NAOMI.    Ay:  you'm  Little  Boswell. 

She  moves  into  the  big  doorway,  a 
glowing  shadow,  looking  up  the 
moors. 

ELLEN.    Why,  of  course!     I  was  born  here!  .  .  . 

[46] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


She  joins  her  man  by  the  wheelbarrow. 

Adam,  what  do  you  think  we  ought  to  do 
about  her?  She's  not  quite  all  there,  if  you 
ask  me. 

ADAM.  Well,  in  a  way,  she  isn't.  She's  not  just 
an  ordinary  woman. 

ELLEN.   Well,  I  am;  and  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  her! 

Look  at  her  now!  It's  no  use  her  wait 
ing  yonder:  she  won't  get  nothing  out  of 
us.  I  hope  you've  not  been  making  a  fool 
of  yourself  again,  giving  her  anything!  .  .  . 

Adam,  what  have  you  been  giving  her? 

ADAM.  What's  the  use!  I  might  as  well  explain 
to  a  patch  of  turnip.  You  never  do  under 
stand  me. 

ELLEN.  I  think  I  ought  to!  Why,  we  live  to 
gether,  you  and  me. 

ADAM.      Well,  if  it's  only  a  matter  of  houses  .  .  . 
ELLEN.    It's  houses  we  have  to  live  in!    We're  not 

[47] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


like  some,  thank  God,  as  gad  about  from 
place  to  place  without  no  house. 

ADAM.      Humph !     I    said    you    wouldn't    under 
stand. 

ELLEN.  I'd  understand,  if  you'd  only  talk  plain. 
It's  all  this  hinting  and  head-nodding  gives 
me  the  wobbles.  Your  wry-necked  way  of 
saying  things. 

ADAM.  It's  your  wry-necked  way  of  listening  to 
them.  If  I  was  to  tell  you  plain,  you'd 
only  take  it  for  lying,  or  something  funny 
enough  for  newspapers.  Look  here,  Ellen — 
You're  a  Bible  woman:  supposing  I  was  to 
tell  you  in  your  own  lingo?  Supposing  I 
was  to  tell  you  as  I've  been  converted? 
Knocked  flat  as  a  pancake,  like  Balaam, 
like  Paul!  What  would  you  say? 

ELLEN.  I'd  say  you  were  a  godless  liar.  Like 
Ananias. 

ADAM.      But  it's  true:    I  am!     I've  seen  the  light! 

Glory  alleloolia:   praise  the  Lord! 

[48] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  Adam,  think  of  your  soul.  You'll  be  struck 
or  something.  The  light  don't  come  to 
drunkards  in  their  mocking. 

ADAM.  It  come  to  me  here  in  this  forge,  I  tell  you. 
Through  yon  doorway.  Like  a  pillar  of  fire. 

He  follows  her  swift  backward  glance; 

Ay,  she  understands.     Properly  speaking, 
it's  what  she  means. 

ELLEN.  I'd  like  to  know  what  a  trapesing  bonfire 
understands  better  than  me! 

ADAM.      Well,  there  is  something,  if  you  look  for  it. 

ELLEN.  If  you  mean  I  don't  dress  fine,  and  gad 
about  like  a  dolled  up  baggage  .  .  . 

ADAM.  I  mean — Freedom.  That's  something  you 
never  had  no  dealings  with  in  your  life. 

She  is  genuinely  surprised; 

ELLEN.    But  I  am  free!     We're  all  of  us  free  in  this 

[49] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


country.  .Only  I  don't  go  about  complain 
ing!  Thank  God,  there's  nothing  of  the 
grumble-gizzard  in  me!  I'm  what  you 
might  call  a  contented  woman. 

ADAM.  Ay,  there's  where  your  complaint  comes  in. 
ELLEN.  Complaint,  indeed !  What's  wrong  with  me  ? 
ADAM.  Little  Boswell. 

And  he  grins  at  his  little  joke. 

ELLEN  (flaring).  Yes,  I  can  see  who's  been  con 
verting  you!  Oh,  it's  like  you!  You  a 
respectable  married  man  with  a  nice  wife 
and  home  of  your  own,  go  off  gallivanting 
with  trollops  as  learn  you  to  poke  drunken 
fun  at  Little  Boswell  and  the  Bible!  Then 
you  come  groaning  about  conversion! 

His  joy  wilts  like  a  flower. 
ADAM       (mad).  Groaning!    Well,  I'm  damned! 

ELLEN.    Don't  you  swear  at  me:   if  you  are!  .  .  . 

[So] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Foreigners  coming  here  in  their  flaming 
gewgaws  and  flauntings,  setting  people  agen 
Little  Boswell!  I  don't  care  if  she  does 
hear  me!  I'm  patriotic!  I  don't  think  we 
ought  to  be  made  feel  badly  about  the 
place  of  our  birth! 

ADAM.  Birth!  What  sort  of  birth,  do  you  think, 
belongs  to  a  bastard? 

ELLEN.  Adam,  will  you  stop  using  them  bad 
words!  That's  why  people  don't  like  you. 
Besides,  they'd  forget  all  about  it,  if 
you  didn't  keep  on  reminding  them  so 
often. 

ADAM.  I  don't  want  them  to  forget.  I  want  them 
to  remember  the  sort  of  man  Little  Boswell 
lives  on. 

ELLEN.  Little  Boswell's  all  right,  if  other  folk 
didn't  come  pushing  their  noses  in.  Med 
dling!  .  .  . 

I  never  could  abide  ear-rings,  anyway. 
They  don't  seem  quite  respectable  to 
me. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Ellen,  did  you  ever  take  a  good  look  at 
Little  Boswell?  Did  you  look  at  it  just 
now,  as  you  come  up? 

ELLEN.  I  had  enough  to  do,  worriting  my  inside 
out,  without  gaping  at  landscapes.  Con 
tentment! — That's  the  trouble  with  you, 
Adam :  you  got  none.  I  never  found  noth 
ing  wrong  in  Little  Boswell;  and  Heaven 
knows,  I'm  particular! 

ADAM.  Beelzebub!  There'd  have  to  be  some  al 
terations,  to  content  me! 

ELLEN     (exasperated).  Such  as  what  now? 

Which  gives  him  his  opportunity; 

ADAM.  Well,  I'd  build  it  different,  to  begin  with. 
All  them  flyblown  pigsties,  you  call  your 
houses —  Human  beings  hadn't  ought  to 
live  in  them  holes :  not  without  kicking  up 
a  shindy!  I'd  have  something  more  solid: 
something  to  last:  take  a  pride  in.  What 
do  you  say  now  to  Walls  of  Marble  and 
seven  big  Gates  of  Gold  ?  .  .  . 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He    breaks    through    her    inarticulate 
gasping. 

Ay,  there'd  be  no  mistaking  that,  would 
there?    That  would  be  something  like  a  city! 

ELLEN.  Every  blessed  drop  of  it's  gone  clean  up 
into  his  head! 

ADAM.  And  what's  a  city  doing,  dumped  down  in 
the  bottom  of  a  valley,  like  a  rubbage  heap  ? 
Too  low!  No  fresh  air  to  it!  I'd  have  it 
stuck  up  somewhere  to  be  seen.  High! 
Top  of  the  hill  yonder:  that's  the  place  for 
a  city:  so  as  the  sun  might  rise  upon  the 
whiteness  of  them  walls,  and  the  glittering 
of  them  golden  gates. 

ELLEN»  Adam,  are  you  talking  about  the  New 
Jerusalem  ? 

ADAM.  I'm  talking  about  the  city  yonder,  waiting 
for  the  builders. 

They  are  gazing  upwards,  through  the 
imaginary  window. 

[53] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  If  you're  asking  for  something  pretty  to  look 
at,  there's  a  flag.  What  more  do  you  want  ? 

ADAM.  Ay,  any  slave  can  set  a  flag  flapping.  It 
takes  a  king  to  build  a  city. 

ELLEN.    Yes,  I  suppose  yon  flag  don't  suit  you  now. 

ADAM.  Well,  I  was  thinking  maybe  a  little  soap  and 
water  .  .  . 

ELLEN.  There  you  go!  Then  you  wonder  why  you 
get  yourself  disliked! 

ADAM.  Oh,  I  know  the  poison  brewing  for  me  yon 
der!  What  did  Little  Boswell  ever  know 
about  flags,  but  waving  them?  It's  men 
like  me  as  honours  flags.  Men  as  '11  have 
them  clean. 

ELLEN.    Well,  if  you'd  only  learn  to  tell  them  nicely. 

ADAM.  There's  plenty  to  tell  them  nicely.  My  God, 
there's  room  in  the  world  for  one  like  me. 

ELLEN.    But  you  get  so  excited.     Why  won't  you 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


be  like  other  people?     You  don't  see  them 
getting  excited. 

ADAM.  Them!  A  fat  lot  of  excitement  you  could 
squeeze  out  of  a  load  of  dead  mummies. 
The  things  they  rot  by  have  been  dust 
hundreds  of  year.  They  don't  know  what 
day  they're  in:  what  hour. 

Do  you  know  what's  wanting  in  Little 
Boswell  ? 

ELLEN.    Something  funny,  I'll  be  bound!    What? 
NAOMI  flashes  round  as  he  replies. 

ADAM.  A  clock!— Yes,  C-L-0-C-K,  clock!  Some 
thing  to  wake  these  corpses  from  their 
graves.  Something  to  resurrect  them. 
Something  loud  and  terrible,  to  tell  them 
the  time  of  day. 
Hark!  .  .  . 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
three-quarters,  dismally. 

Do  you  hear  it?     Yon  old  passing  bell  down 

Issl 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


at  the  Sunday  School,  telling  a  quarter  to 
five.  You  believe  that,  don't  you?  Well, 
it's  a  liar:  it's  nine  minutes  to. 

What's  wanted  in  this  place,  I  tell  you, 
is  a  clock.  Built  up  high  in  the  tower  of 
the  City  Hall,  that's  where  it  should  be: 
up  yonder:  among  the  blazing  stars.  No 
more  of  yon  sort,  telling  lies !  A  clock  with 
a  living  heart  inside  it,  beating  time:  a 
clock  with  a  living  tongue  to  it,  clamouring 
tune:  something  as  '11  dare  to  tell  the 
truth. 

ELLEN.  Adam,  have  you  been  drinking  again  this 
morning? 

ADAM.  Yes:  I  am  filled  with  new  wine!  Like 
them  other  drunkards  on  the  Day  of 
Pentecost. 

ELLEN.    Adam,  it's  blasphemy! 

ADAM.  Ay,  it  was  then.  It  always  will  be,  when 
you  speak  the  truth. 

ELLEN.    God  forgive  him! 

[56] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Emerging  from  the  shadows,  NAOMI 
now  stands  between  them. 

NAOMI.    Well,  have  you  found  him? 

ELLEN.  It's  you!  What  have  you  been  doing  wit? 
him?  He's  not  the  same  man. 

NAOMI.  Maybe  he's  bewitched,  or  star-struck,  or 
sold  himself  to  some  spirit. 

ELLEN.  What  are  you  blathering  about,  you  heath 
en  hussy?  There  isn't  such  things  nowa 
days. 

NAOMI.    Well,  names  change,  same  as  men. 

ELLEN.  I  don't  want  to  talk  with  you.  What 
business  have  you  meddling  with  other 
people's  husbands,  anyway?  That's  what 
I  want  to  know. 

NAOMI.  Why,  I've  had  people's  husbands  journeying 
with  me,  out  in  this  wilderness,  afore  to-day. 

Symbolism  is  not  ELLEN'S  strong  point. 
5  [S7l 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  Well,  what  with  her  wilderness  and  his 
marble  palaces,  blessed  if  I  know  whether 
I'm  on  my  heels  or  my  head !  Tell  me,  are 
you  immoral  or  only  daft?  Don't  you 
know  this  is  a  forge?  Just  an  ordinary, 
messy,  blacksmith's  forge? 

NAOMI.  Ay,  with  crags  for  anvils,  and  great  thun 
der-bolts  for  hammers.  Look!  There's 
lightning  playing  about  him  now. 

ELLEN.  Take  your  evil  eye  off  my  man!  He's 
nothing  to  do  with  you.  Let  him  be,  I  tell 
you!  He's  mine:  not  yours! 

NAOMI.    Yours,  house-fly!    Watch  if  he's  yours! .  .  . 

And  she  rivets  her  gaze  upon  him. 

ELLEN.  Adam,  answer  her.  Don't  let  her  stand 
magging  there.  Tell  her  the  truth.  Tell 
her  as  you  belong  to  me. 

NAOMI.  It's  too  late.  He  passed  that  milestone 
hours  ago.  Little  Boswell  don't  hold  him 
no  more.  He  belongs  to  someone  else. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.    It's  a  lie!    Who? 

NAOMI.    Someone    you   never   dreamed   of.     Him 
self. 

ADAM.     Myself!  .  .  . 

NAOMI'S    eyes   have   never   left   him. 
Nor  do  they  now. 

NAOMI.    I  known  men  belong  that  way,  one  sort  or 
the  other,  down  and  down  the  years. 

ELLEN.     That's  unscriptural,  at  any  rate!     Ye  are 

not  your  own;   but  bought  with  a  price. 

She  serves  this  up  with  vinegar. 

NAOMI.    Oh,  there's  price  paid,  sure  enough.     When 
men  belong  to  themselves. 

ELLEN.    Yes,  no-one  to  watch  over  them.     I  know! 
NAOMI.    They  get  watched  over. 

Adam  wakes  as  from  a  trance; 

[59] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  What  did  they  do  ?  Them  men — down  and 
down  the  years  .  .  . 

NAOMI.  It  was  the  way  they  took  me.  Sometimes 
they  found  me  the  barren  mother  of  dead 
Idols;  and  they  perished,  breaking  them. 
Sometimes  they  begat  upon  me — Living 
Children! 

ELLEN.    All  this  is  so  much  double  Dutch  to  me. 
ADAM.      It's  as  simple  as  the  Book  of  Revelations. 

ELLEN.  Well,  I  like  people  to  talk  plain  out  what 
they  mean. 

ADAM.  If  she  was  to  talk  plain  out  what  she  means, 
somebody'd  be  getting  locked  up. 

ELLEN.    Good  job,  too!    Her  and  her  idols!    Why,  we 
got  none  nowadays.    Only  Roman  Catholics. 
Thank  heaven,  I'm  Protestant,  and  was 
brought  up  respectable  to  know  God. 

NAOMI.    Then  you'd  best  keep  your  eyes  open.     He's 
coming.     Don't  mistake  Him. 
[60] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  Thank  you,  I  don't  want  you  teaching  me 
about  God!  What  should  I  be  likely  to 
mistake  Him  for? 

NAOMI.  Abomination  maybe;  or  ruin.  Maybe  the 
devil. 

ELLEN.  Don't  you  stand  jeering  at  me,  Jezebel 
Rag-bags !  I'm  a  religious  woman,  I'd  have 
you  understand:  I  know  all  about  God. 
His  still  small  voice  come  to  me  when  I 
was  only  half  your  age.  And  I  wasn't  no 
chicken,  neither! 

NAOMI.  His  voice  don't  always  come  so  still  and 
small.  Sometimes  it  come  in  cracking 
thunder  and  the  clattering  of  hailstones. 
He's  not  all  silence,  God!  He's  slow:  He 
takes  a  long  time  getting  His  breath;  but 
He  can  shout.  I  known  God's  voice  make 
windows  rattle,  and  set  the  comfortable 
houses  of  men  trembling  from  base  to 
beam.  When  He's  angry!  When  things 
gone  too  far!  He  don't  leave  off  easy, 
when  He  speaks  that  way.  Not  till  He 
done. 

[61] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Ay,  and  strange  mouths  He  uses,  God! 
Don't  always  pick  respectable!  Any  old 
jawbone  '11  do  for  Him,  so  long  it  wags 
proper.  Riffraff:  play-folk:  men  in  mur 
derers'  cages !  I  seen  Him  twist  the  mouths 
of  gutter-dogs  and  harlots  to  His  use:  I 
seen  men  run  stark  mad,  with  Him  buzzing 
upon  their  lips.  Not  all  music,  neither! 
Sometimes  the  roaring  of  wild  beasts  made 
drunk  with  slaughter:  pouring  through  the 
fat  cities:  ravening!  When  God's  angry! 
When  He's  out  shouting!  In  the  streets! 
In  Little  Boswell! 

ELLEN.    Adam,  don't  listen  to  her.     Don't  you  see? 
She's  mad! 

ADAM.     Well,  I'm  drunk.     So  we're  a  pair. 

Come,  don't  stand  shivering  that  way. 
What  are  you  afraid  of?  Don't  you  see 
the  beauty  of  her? 

ELLEN.    Beauty!    She's  the  abomination  out  of  the 
Bible! 


ADAM.     Why,  what's  wrong  with  her? 

[62] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  It's  her  eyes.  I  don't  like  the  way  she's 
looking  at  you.  Nobody  ever  looks  like 
that  in  Little  Boswell.  I  don't  like  the  way 
she  dresses  herself.  I  don't  like  the  colour. 
Why,  it's — it's  .  .  . 

ADAM.  Well,  you're  not  a  bull,  are  you,  to  mind  a 
bit  of  colour? 

ELLEN.  None  of  us  in  Little  Boswell  ever  fancied 
that  colour.  It's  one  of  the  things  we — we 
don't  do. 

NAOMI.  You  can't  escape  it.  It's  glowing  all  over 
the  world.  Isn't  it  time  you  begun  learn 
ing  what  it  rightly  means? 

ELLEN.  It  means  the  enticement  of  the  devil.  It 
means  the  destruction  of  houses.  The  deceiv- 
ableness  of  unrighteousness  in  them  that  perish. 

NAOMI.  It  means  the  Living  Blood,  as  makes  all 
mankind  one. 

ELLEN.  Adam,  stir  yourself!  Why  don't  you  send 
her  away? 

[63] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Where  to?  You  can't  send  anything  like 
that  away.  Not  when  it's  once  in  the  world. 

ELLEN.  There's  plenty  of  other  places.  What's 
Little  Boswell  done,  to  be  upset  like  this? 

ADAM.  Send  her  away!  You  might  as  well  try 
and  shift  the  burning  sun. 

ELLEN.  We've  got  a  policeman.  What's  a  police 
man  for? 

NAOMI.  He's  been  tried,  time  and  again.  Hang 
men,  too.  But  they  don't  get  the  right 
grip  somehow.  Not  on  my  sort.  Even 
the  grave  don't  seem  able  to  hold  me. 

ELLEN.    There  must  be  some  way,  if  I  could  only  . .  . 

NAOMI.  You  can't  think  of  anything  new.  It's  no 
use:  I'm  here.  You'd  better  face  me. 

ELLEN.  Why  are  you  here  at  all?  That's  what  I've 
been  wondering,  all  along? 

NAOMI.    Because  it's  the  hour. 

[64] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.    What  hour? 

NAOMI.  Yours.  Little  Boswell's.  The  hour  when 
you  got  to  choose. 

ELLEN.    Choose  what? 

NAOMI.    Idols  or  Living  Children. 

ELLEN  looks  at  her  curiously. 
ELLEN.    What  do  you  know  about  children? 
NAOMI.    What  do  you? 

ELLEN.  Never  you  mind  about  me.  Do  you  call 
yourself  a  single  woman? 

NAOMI.    I  walk  alone. 

ELLEN.  Well,  I'm  a  married  woman;  and  let  me 
tell  you,  children  don't  always  drop  down 
from  heaven  by  choosing. 

NAOMI.  Ay,  that's  something  beyond  Little  Boswell. 
Idols,  maybe!  Bibles  and  flags  and  houses. 

[65] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Even  little  limbs  and  mouths  as  learn  to 
move  and  babble  like  yourselves.  But 
nothing  alive!  Nothing  as  '11  save  you  in 
the  hour  your  idols  crumble.  That  takes 
more  than  Little  Boswell.  That's  bastard's 
labour.  On'y  anguish  and  a  mighty  long 
ing  can  kindle  living  children. 

ELLEN  (fiercely).  Well,  7  long! 

NAOMI  (more  fiercely).  What  have  you  borne  him? 

ELLEN.  Bearing  isn't  the  only  proof  of  love! 

NAOMI.  It's  the  on'y  proof  love  knows. 

ELLEN.  Yes,  I  see  your  hinting.  Because  I'm  child 
less  !  You,  the  single  woman  as  walks  alone, 
luring  into  the  dark  by-ways!  Oh,  I  know 
you,  wrecker  of  men's  homes !  Anyway, 
you  won't  lure  here!  Not  with  my  man, 
Doll-of-the-ditch !  I'm  his  lawful  married 
wife,  I'd  have  you  know :  if  I  am  only  barren ! 

NAOMI.    By  God's  deep  dawn  and  all  the  glimmer 
ings  of  it,  but  Pm  not  barren  to  him! 
[66] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.    What  do  you  mean,  you  slut? 

NAOMI.  The  dayspring!  I  have  heard  the  living 
heart-beat  of  his  child. 

ELLEN.  Adam,  don't  stand  answerless  there,  like  a 
stuck  sign-post.  Be  a  man!  Call  her  a 
liar! 

ADAM.  There  isn't  no  answer.  I'm  trying  to  piece 
it  all  out  in  my  mind. 

ELLEN.    Piece  what  out? 
ADAM.      About  her  and  me. 

ELLEN.  Good  gracious,  you  don't  think  I  believe  . .  . 
How  long  have  you  known  the  woman? 

ADAM.  That's  the  point.  If  you'd  asked  me  that 
question  half  an  hour  ago,  I'd  have  said 
about  ten  minutes. 

ELLEN.    There,  I  know:  she  is  a  liar. 

NAOMI.    And  if  she  was  to  ask  you  now? 

[67] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.     Why,  now  .  .  . 

I  seem  to  have  known  you,  one  time  and 
another,  since  the  beginning  of  the  world. 

ELLEN.    Oh,    what's    the    use,    with    a    couple    of 
loonies!    I'm  done! 

And  she  plumps  down  on  the  anvil. 
ADAM  addresses  NAOMI  as  in  a  dream; 

ADAM.  Back  in  the  womb  of  my  mother,  it  begun. 
In  yon  hill.  Properly  speaking,  yon  hill 
was  my  mother.  She  bore  me:  she  grew 
big  with  me:  I  come  up  out  of  the  black 
guts  of  the  earth,  like  a  lump  of  metal. 
Deep  down,  burrowing  in  the  dark,  a  slave : 
that's  the  way  I  was  then:  under  the 
Romans.  And  up  above  me,  in  the  sweet 
air,  something  watching  for  me,  waiting; 
and  I  never  knew  you.  But  I  climbed  out 
into  the  light —  You  d rawed  me.  And  the 
Romans  were  gone.  And  there  was  lead 
in  my  hands. 

Next,  come  them  others.     They  ground 
me  back  into  my  own  soil — Mine:    they 
[68] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


stole  it  from  me.  I  laboured  for  them; 
and  for  wage,  they  bound  fresh  bonds  upon 
me:  oaths,  and  fears,  and  bits  of  lawyer's 
paper.  In  the  light  of  day,  on  the  good 
green  earth,  a  shackled  man,  labouring, 
without  no  land  of  his  own.  And  you  come 
once  more,  unbeknowns  to  me.  You  come 
many  times.  And  I  fought  and  fell,  and 
rose  again  like  Christ;  until  my  blood's 
huge  waves  engulfed  them.  And  they  were 
washed  away  like  sand.  But  there  were 
drills  for  seeding,  and  reapers  for  the  har 
vest.  And  I  made  them. 

And  now,  this  last  bondage — Little  Bos- 
well.  Little  Boswell,  barren  with  idols, 
waiting  to  be  broken;  and  yonder,  slum 
bering,  that  unborn  voice  of  iron.  And  you 
come  to  me  again;  like  you  done  last  night: 
up  on  the  moor:  in  the  dews  and  the  star 
light:  softly  like  a  bride.  And  in  the  dawn, 
at  last  I  know  you. 

The  wine  of  ELLEN'S  wrath,  fermented, 
now  bursts  the  bottle; 

ELLEN.    No,  I'm  not  done!    Not  so  long  as  there's 

[69] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


a    tongue    wagging    inside    my    God-given 
head!  .  .  . 

What  was  that  about  last  night? 

ADAM.  I  spoke  plain  enough.  Good  Lord,  you'd 
think  it  was  something  as  wasn't  happen 
ing  in  every  household  in  the  land,  to  see 
her  carrying  on! 

ELLEN.  Not  in  my  household!  Not  while  I'm  in 
it!  There'll  be  nothing  of  that  colour 
hanging  about  Number  Three,  Paradise 
Terrace:  not  so  long  as  there's  a  flat-iron 
left!  I'll  learn  your  sinful  soul  what 
Little  Boswell  means  by  Home! 

ADAM.      Ellen,  will  you  .  .  . 

ELLEN.  No,  I  won't!  You've  been  talking  your 
head  off  all  the  morning:  now  I'll  talk  mine. 
Oh,  I  may  be  blind  and  dull:  I  may  be  only 
a  poor  doting  door  -  mat  for  trampling 
brutes  of  husbands  to  wipe  their  dirty  boots 
on;  but  thank  God,  I  am  respectable! 

ADAM.      I'm  jiggered !    You'd  think  to  hear  her  .  .  . 

[70] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Think!  You  never  stop  to  think!  It's 
not  what  you  think!  It's  other  people. 
What  cTyou  suppose  all  them  out  there  are 
going  to  think  of  you? 

She  flings  a  large  infuriated  gesture 
through  the  imaginary  window. 


Them!  I'll  twist  them  inside  out  with 
thinking,  before  I've  done  with  them. 
Whether  they  understand,  or  no. 


Yes,  shout  it  through  the  window,  do!  Let 
all  the  world  know  the  kind  of  husband  you 
are!  It's  bad  companions,  that's  what  it 
is.  Liquoring  roisters  talking  politics  and 
disrespect  for  happy  homes,  down  at  the 
pot-house.  Them,  and  the  wicked  books 
you're  always  addling  over!  And  yon 
razzle-dazzle — with  her  rings! 

But  I'll  not  stand  it!  Don't  you  think 
I'm  a  fool,  because  I'm  your  wife.  Wives 
have  a  lot  to  say  for  themselves,  let  me  tell 
you.  They  have  more  at  the  back  of  them 
than  you  reckon.  There's  all  Little  Bos- 
well  at  the  back  of  me.  Little  Boswell 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


won't  see  me  put  upon  like  this —     No,  not 
for  twenty  gipsy  women! 

ADAM  crosses  over  to  her  angrily; 

ADAM.  Look  here,  Ellen,  can't  you  understand  a 
simple  little  thing  like  .  .  . 

ELLEN.  Don't  you  come  nigh  me !  Drunken!  Un 
clean!  You  and  your  brazen  trollops! 

ADAM  (roughly).  Oh,  all  right:  you're  like  the  rest 
of  them.  It's  no  use  trying  to  explain 
any  little  thing  straightforward,  in  this  hole! 

And  he  goes  and  sulks  in  the  doorway. 
ELLEN  concentrates  on  NAOMI. 

ELLEN.  And  as  for  you,  gipsy,  I  know  your  mean 
ing  now!  Nice  lot  of  mystery  you  were 
making,  weren't  you?  Well,  I  see  through 
your  mystery.  I've  heard  of  you  before: 
read  about  you — Book  of  Revelations,  sev- 
enteen-five,  it  was.  Your  sort  of  mystery 
come  out  of  wicked  Babylon!  There's  a 
word  for  it:  a  name  for  your  sort:  a  name 
[72] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


too  bad  for  a  decent  woman's  lips!     But 
it's  in  the  Bible,  right  enough!  .  .  . 

Oh,  you  can  look  at  me  with  your  eyes! 
Fm  not  afraid  of  you  no  longer,  now  I  know 
you!  So  take  care!  Fve  got  friends  at 
the  back  of  me,  as  '11  make  short  work  of 
you — Scarlet  Woman! 

NAOMI.    Take  care,  you!    There's  something  at  the 
back  of  me,  also! 

And  ELLEN  stands  silent  at  last,  as 
under  a  spell. 

Adam  growls  ironically  from  the  door 
way; 

ADAM.     Well,  they're  coming!     Your  friends,  Ellen. 
I  can  see  them  down  the  road. 

ELLEN     (mechanically).  My  friends!    Who?  .  .  . 

ADAM.     Some  of  the  black  eyes  and  bloody]  noses 
from  last  night's  jubilee. 

ELLEN  wakes  up  with  a  jerk; 

6  [73] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  What  do  you  know  about  last  night's  jubilee  ? 
ADAM.  I  was  there.  You'll  be  hearing  by  and  bye. 
ELLEN.  You  went  drunk  into  the  Sunday  School! 

ADAM.  No,  I  was  only  mad  then:  I  got  drunk 
afterwards.  Wasn't  good  liquor,  neither. 

Howsomever,  I  got  up  steam  enough  to 
let  off  a  bit  of  my  mind. 

ELLEN.    Adam,  you  wouldn't  dare! 

ADAM.      Why,  what's  the  matter  with  my  mind? 

ELLEN.  What  wickedness  was  it  brought  you  to 
Sunday  School? 

ADAM.  Why,  to  save  souls,  of  course.  I  thought 
the  Constituted  Sons  of  Freedom  would  like 
to  hear  the  word  of  God.  So  I  told  them. 

ELLEN.  He's  taken  the  bread  smack  out  of  our 
mouths ! 

ADAM.      Then  we'll  chew  grass  like  their  other  cattle. 

[74] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.    So  that's  why  their  lights  were  on  all  night! 
I  thought  it  couldn't  'a'  been  all  jubilee. 

An  illumination  comes  to  her; 
Adam,  they've  been  praying  for  you! 

ADAM.     Telling  God  about  me,  eh?     Well,  they'd 
have  to  get  back  at  me  someway. 

ELLEN.    Don't  blaspheme,  man! 

ADAM.      I  can't  help  it,  woman.     I'm  a  true  believer. 

A  babble  of  voices  is  heard  approach 
ing,  outside. 

ELLEN     (fearfully).  Who  are  they? 

ADAM.      Three  of  the   Sons.     I'll   name   them   for 
you.     Like  a  wax-work  show. 

And  he  does  so,  as  they  enter,  one  by  one. 

Nathaniel    Dank,    lawyer.     Little    Bos- 
well's  notion  of  constituted  freedom. 
[75]. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Sammy  Snark,  editor  of  the  Little  Boswell 
Free  Press.  Penny  a  line  freedom. 

Jeremiah  Jones  with  a  black  eye.  Iron 
monger:  boss  of  the  Sunday  School;  and 
first  trombone  of  the  MacDabble  Musical 
Club — all  knocked  into  one.  Makes  free 
with  other  people's  brains. 

Each  wheels  round  as  he  is  named, 
facing  ADAM,  who  is  left  of  the  big 
doorway. 

DANK  is  a  little  dapper  man,  bald- 
headed,  with  a  twisted  lip.  SNARK 
is  florid,  with  a  big  watch-chain 
and  a  squeaky  voice.  He  stands  to 
the  right  of  DANK.  JEREMIAH 
JONES  has  a  good  face,  thin,  ascetic: 
one  black  eye;  and  a  voice  like  an 
organ.  He  passes  by  the  others, 
and  stands  left  of  the  group. 

JONES.     Yes,  my  man,  I've  had  nothing  but  your 
language  running  in  my  head  all  night  long! 

ADAM.     You  can  heave  it  out  of  your  head  a  thou- 

[76] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


sand  nights  long,  and  they  won't  mistake  it 
for  yours,  Jeremiah. 

SNARK.  What  did  I  tell  you!  You'll  get  nothing 
out  of  him  but  dissertations  and  double 
meanings. 

DANK.     Leave  him  to  me,  Snark —    Just  one  mo 
ment,  brother  Jones — I'll  deal  with  him. 
Now  sir,  come  over  here  to  your  own  anvil, 
and  be  ... 
Well,  upon  my  word !  .  .  . 

He    has    turned,    and    sees    NAOMI 
there. 

The  others  turn  like  automata. 
SNARK.    Upon  mine!  .  .  . 
JONES.     Mine,  too! 

He  feels  safe,  with  public  opinion  at 
the  back  of  him. 

He  and  SNARK  speak  together; 
[77] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


BOTH.      Who  is  the  gipsy  woman? 

DANK   (slowly) .  Yes,  who  is  this — highly  lurid  female  ? 

NAOMI.  Do  you  want  to  know?  I'm  something  you 
all  heard  of,  many  a  time.  On'y  you 
thought  I  was  long  ago! — Shut  up  in  your 
books  and  Bibles,  or  stamped  out  by  police 
men,  or  nailed  to  rot  on  stretching  arms  of 
wood.  You  didn't  dream  I  was  so  nigh. 
Well,  I'm  here  in  your  Little  Boswell,  at 
last.  Up  agen  your  very  doors!  Since 
you'm  fond  of  naming  things  correct,  you'd 
better  call  me  same  as  she  did — Scarlet 
Woman ! 

The  sun  rises.  It  breaks  through  the 
open  and  imaginary  windows,  flood 
ing  her  with  light.  She  is  like  a 
sign  in  blood. 

DANK.  We  didn't  come  here  to  talk  Scripture  with 
you,  woman.  We  came  here  to  talk  .  .  . 

But  the,  words  wither  on  his  twisted 
lip. 

[78] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    All  right:  I  can  watch  a  spell    longer.     Go 
on  with  your  talking,  Little  Boswell! 

She  settles  herself  upon  the  anvil,  the 
"wild  thing"  shining  in  her  eyes. 
The  sunlight  burns  upon  her  for  a 
moment,  and  then  wanes  behind  a 
cloud. 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  five. 

If  required,  the  CURTAIN  may  descend 
at  this  point. 


END    OF   THE    SECOND   ACT 


THE   THIRD   ACT 

The  Scene  and  the  Situation  remain  unchanged. 
The  day  is  clear,  though  clouded.  ADAM  is  in  the 
doorway.  To  the  left  below  him,  the  Constituted  Sons 
stand  rooted  as  before:  Editor  SNARK,  Lawyer  DANK, 
Sunday  School  JONES.  They  face  the  Scarlet  Woman 
at  the  anvil.  ELLEN  is  by  the  carpenter's  horse. 

DANK.     Hm!     I  think  I  understand. 

SNARK.  So  do  I.  The  situation's  worth  a  column, 
as  it  stands  at  this  moment. 

JONES.';;  I  don't  agree  with  you.  I  consider  she's  a 
public  outrage,  and  her  language  disgusting. 

SNARK.  That's  good  enough  for  my  purpose.  I'm 
yellow,  and  I  don't  mind  who  knows  it. 
Yellow  and  unashamed!  .  .  . 

Keeping  me  up  all  night,  listening  to  a 
lot  of  jaw! 

[80] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JONES.  We've  been  sitting  up  too!  I'm  ready  to 
drop. 

SNARK.  I  wish  you'd  dropped  nine  hours  ago.  Look 
here!  Most  of  it  your  cackle  and  his ! 

He  whips  out  his  note-book  savagely. 

JONES.  Notwithstanding,  I  consider  that  woman 
no  fit  subject  for  discussion  before  the 
young.  If  you  don't  know  your  Bible,  I 
do. 

SNARK.    I'll  make  it  an  interview  with  her,  if  I  like. 
I  know  when  I'm  on  a  snap,  without  you! . . . 
Whereabouts  in  the  Bible  was  that? 

DANK.  Tut,  tut,  gentlemen :  this  is  no  time  for 
idle  prattling. 

SNARK.  Oh,  shut  it!  We've  had  nothing  else  but 
prattling  from  you  since  midnight.  With 
ered  old  ninepin! 

DANK.  How  dare  you  defame  me,  sir?  I  am  no 
ninepin! 

[81] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  And  then  they  talk  about  the  anarchy  of 
the  lower  classes! 

They  all  three  remember  him  at  once; 
TRIO.      Ah! ... 
DANK.     Which  brings  us  to  the  point  of  our  visit. 

ELLEN  moves  up  swiftly  to  ADAM; 

ELLEN.  Now  be  careful.  I'm  not  friends  with  you; 
but  I  don't  want  you  a  bigger  fool  than  you 
are. 

SNARK     (writing).  See!     His  own  wife  knows  him! 
ELLEN.    It  wasn't  meant  for  your  ears,  Mr.  Smarty! 

ADAM.  I'll  be  careful!  I  won't  let  a  word  slip 
from  me  as  I  don't  mean. 

He  goes  down  to  the  carpenter9 s  horse, 
straddles  it,  and  lights  his  pipe. 

Now,  Sons  of  Freedom!    Spit  it  out. 
[82] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK.  Prisoner — I  mean  blacksmith:  don't  be 
noisy ! 

ADAM.     Can't  help  it,  your  honour:  it's  my  trade. 

DANK  frowns  forensically  upon  him, 
and  opens  the  case  for  Little  BoswelL 

DANK.  Now,  we  had  better  confine  ourselves  strict 
ly  to  the  point  at  issue.  The  trouble  with 
proceedings  of  this  informal  kind  is  that  the 
lay  mind  lacks  directness.  Now  the  point 
is  ...  But  be  seated,  gentlemen.  Samuel 
Snark —  No,  there:  on  the  nail-keg.  Jere 
miah  Jones  .  .  . 

JEREMIAH  looks  round  vaguely:  then 
makes  a  line  for  the  wheelbarrow. 

Better  wheel  it  up  here.  There's  nothing 
like  being  together;  and  your  black  eye  is 
evidence.  I'll  take  the  —  er  —  mustard- 
box. 

But  ADAM  is  troubled  about  the  peram 
bulations  of  JEREMIAH; 
[83] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      Here,  mind  them  bricks,  now.     Whoa!  .  .  . 

Which  pulls  him  up  with  a  bump. 

You're    a   good    lifter,  ironmonger;    but 
you'll  never  do  for  a  cart-horse. 

JONES.     I  will  not  stand  tamely  here,  taking  your  . .  . 

And  he  tumbles  back  into  the  bricks. 

ADAM.  That's  all  right,  trombone:  take  it  sitting. 
You're  welcome  to  all  the  wheelbarrows  / 
ever  made.  It's  when  you  pinch  my  pat 
ents,  I  object. 

\ 

JONES.  I  protest  on  my  word  of  honour  as  an  iron 
monger  .  .  . 

ADAM.  No:  not  with  me,  Jeremiah!  Or  would  you 
like  me  to  hand  over  the  proofs  to  Sammy? 

DANK.     All  of  this  is  beside  the  point.  The  point  is  .  .  . 

SNARK.  Devil  take  this  keg.  It's  bristling  with 
bayonets ! 

[84] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK  (testily).  You're  as  well  off  as  we  are! 
Look  at  me!  Colour  of  your  rag! 

He  scrabbles  the  sides  of  the  mustard- 
box,  and  shews  his  paws. 

The  point  I  wish  to  press  home  .  .  . 

SNARK.  Well,  I'm  damned  if  I'll  sit  on  it.  They 
are  a  yard  long. 

He  goes  and  squats  on  the  handle  of 
JEREMIAH'S  barrow.  It  promptly 
turns  over. 

JONES.     Of  all  the  lumbering  elephants  I  ever  .  .  . 

SNARK.  How  the  blazes  was  I  to  know  the  bricks 
wouldn't  balance  us  ?  Do  you  think  I  go 
about  carrying  the  avoirdupois  of  bricks  in 
my  head  all  day  long?  Silly  devil! 

JONES.  Don't  you  say  devil  to  me!  Language  like 
that!  ' 

SNARK.    I'm  not  one  of  your  Sunday  School  brats! 

[85] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Fm  a  newspaper  man:  words  mean  nothing 
to  me.  Ass!  Don't  know  how  to  sit  on  a 
wheelbarrow!  There!  .  .  . 

He  has  built  himself  a  little  throne  of 
bricks. 

And  now  I  suppose  my  trousers  will  be 
scarlet! 

He  glares  at  NAOMI  as  though  she  were 
ike  cause. 

DANK  (icily).  The  point  I  had  on  the  tip  of  my 
tongue,  before  this  trifling  digression  .  .  . 

SNARK.  Well,  I'm  syndicated!  Who  started  the 
digression?  It  was  you  made  us  all  sit 
down. 

DANK  (with  exasperated  distinctness).  The  point  I 
had  on  the  tip  of  my  .  .  . 

SNARK'S  snorting  interruption,  check 
ed  by  JONES,  admits  a  melodious 
note  from  ADAM; 
[86] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  He'll  never  get  that  point  off  his  tongue: 
not  if  he  uses  tweezers. 

SNARK.  I  will  not  be  gagged.  I — will — talk!  He's 
been  badgering  us  with  his  points  all  the 
blessed  night.  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to 
lose  my  beauty  sleep  for  nothing?  Just 
because  he's  a  lawyer,  and  can  mess  about 
as  he  pleases,  with  a  row  of  knock-kneed 
little  witnesses,  he  fancies  he's  the  whole 
show.  He's  not!  7  am.  I  stand  for  the 
freedom  of  the  press. 

DANK  (frigidly).  And  I  sir,  stand  for  freedom  too! 
Freedom  of  the  kind  they  recognize  in — 
courts  of  justice. 

JEREMIAH  by  this  time  has  subdued 
his  spirit  to  a  patient  smile. 

JONES.  I  am  afraid  we  are  all  getting  a  little  excited. 
Brethren,  let  us  smile.  I  stand  for  the  free 
dom  that  makes  us  kind  to  one  another. 

SNARK.    Except  in  the  ironmongery,  where  you  are 
a  well-known  sweater! 
[87] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He   is  rewarded  with  a  nasty  saved 
look. 

ADAM.  Would  you  like  to  hear  anything  about  my 
kind? 

Their  unanimity  claps  like  thunder; 
TRIO.       No  sir! 
ADAM.      I  thought  I'd  make  them  brothers  again. 

ELLEN.  Hold  your  tongue!  Can't  you  see  they're 
mad  as  May-bugs? 

SNARK.  Don't  you  call  me  May-bug!  I'm  not  so 
sure  that  you  ought  to  be  here  at  all. 

ELLEN.  It's  our  forge.  Fine  thing,  when  you  can't 
speak  a  few  words  in  your  own  forge! 

SNARK.  We've  had  enough  words  from  your  family 
already.  If  you  think  you  are  going  to  add 
your  mite  .  .  . 

ADAM.     Here,  don't  you  get  meddling  with  my  wife! 

[88] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


SNARK.  Who  wants  to  meddle  with  your  wife  ?  But 
if  she  imagines  for  one  moment  .  .  . 

DANK.  In  strict  law,  this  forge,  being  in  point  of 
fact  their  own  .  .  . 

SNARK.  I  don't  care  a  curse  about  that!  I'd  push 
my  nose  into  the  bedroom  of  the  angel 
Gabriel  for  twopence! 

ELLEN.  Well,  I'm  not  going  to  be  stopped  saying 
my  bit:  not  for  all  the  newspapers  in  the 
world!  And  that's  flat,  Mr.  Falsetto! 

*  They  burst  into  a  quintette,  all  except 
NAOMI  babbling  together.  The  heav 
ens  nearly  fall;  but  justice  prevails; 

DANK.  Please,  please!  Gentlemen,  please,  please, 
please!  .  .  . 

When  quiet  is  restored,  he  commences; 

Every  single  word  of  this  is  totally  beside 
the  ... 

*For  quintette,  see  end  of  volume. 
7  [89] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


SNARK.  Hell,  I've  had  enough  of  you!  If  it's 
points  you're  after —  Sit  on  them!  .  .  . 

He  plants  him  firmly  on  the  nail-keg. 
DANK.     Oh!    This  is  assault  and  battery! 

SNARK.  I'll  make  it  murder,  if  there's  one  more 
point  from  you  till  I've  done.  Now,  I've 
warned  you! 

The  Law  expostulates  pathetically; 
but  the  Press  flaps  him  down,  and 
proceeds  to  spread  sweetness  and 
light; 

I  take  it,  we  all  understand  very  clearly 
what  we're  here  for.  There's  no  need  for 
any  humbug  about  it —  The  truth,  the 
disgusting  truth:  that's  my  motto.  Os 
tensibly,  we  are  here  to  sit  in  calm  dis 
passionate  judgment;  but  really  to  dis 
gorge  our  spleen  upon  that  blackguard 
parading  as  a  blacksmith.  He's  kept  me 
one  whole  night  without  a  wink:  I've 
scribbled  myself  paralytic  because  of  him: 
[90] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


my  digestion  at  this  moment  is  one  intoler 
able  pang  of  Sunday  School  milk-pap  and 
jubilee  buns;    and  I  tell  you  plainly,  he'll 
get  nothing  but  gyp  from  me! 
Are  you  with  me,  Jeremiah? 

JONES.     Ungrudgingly! 

SNARK.    You,  Dank? 

DANK.     Reluctantly — yes  sir! 

And  he  tries  to  escape  from  the  keg. 
SNARK.    No,  you  don't! 

And  he  pops  him  back  again. 

Now,  we've  heard  a  lot  from  this  fellow, 
one  time  and  another,  of  what  he  is  pleased 
to  consider  freedom.  The  subject  seems 
to  be  in  the  air:  we've  been  talking  about 
it  ourselves:  we've  heard  of  nothing  else 
all  night  long.  I  don't  know  how  it  is  with 
you  others;  but  my  mind  is  so  constituted, 
that  if  I  have  to  think  of  one  thing  for  more 
[91] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


than  five  consecutive  minutes,  it  makes  my 
stomach  turn.  It's  the  way  I'm  built:  I 
don't  mind  confessing  it:  I'm  liverish. 
Well  now,  I'm  going  to  put  an  end  to  this 
little  show,  see!  I'll  let  this  rhetorical 
blacksmith  know  just  what  Little  Boswell 
means  by  freedom.  I'll  make  him  look  at 
freedom  for  once  in  his  life  with  Little 
Boswell's  eyes,  if  it  costs  me  ten  col 
umns! 

He  stops  to  mop  his  exuding  brow. 

ADAM.      Now,  he's  the  bloke  as  tells  you  I'm  long- 
winded  ! 

SNARK.    Curse  your  filthy  soul! 

ADAM.      And  my  language  that  bad  I  hadn't  ought 
to  live! 


SNARK.  Don't  you  think  you're  going  to  stop  me, 
by  chipping  in  with  funny  lines.  I'm  going 
to  finish  my  little  lecture  about  freedom,  if 
I  burst.  I'll  teach  you  to  belittle  that  pre 
cious  heritage  for  which  the  sires  of  Little 
[92] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Boswell  bled !  Yes  sir,  freedom !  Freedom 
herself,  whose  noblest  boast  it  is,  that,  pano 
plied  in  Jove's  immortal  thunders,  she  never 
hurt  a  fly!  .  .  . 

DANK  forgets  his  anguish  in  a  burst 
of  patriotism.  JEREMIAH  seconds 
him  sepulchrally. 

DANK.     Hip,  hip,  hooray! 
JONES.     Hear,  hear! 

This  emboldens  SNARK  to  further 
song; 

SNARK.  The  charter  of  our  peculiar  joys,  the  guard 
ian  of  our  faith,  she  has  made  us  what  we 
are!  Freedom!  None  of  your  red  flag 
blasphemy  and  sedition!  But  freedom  as 
she  is  understood  among  her  Constituted 
Sons  of  Little  Boswell,  above  whose  con 
secrated  heads,  there  proudly  floats  and 
flaps  and  flutters  .  .  . 

However,  I  reserve  that  for  the  last  para 
graph. 

[93] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JONES.     Oh,  go  on,  Samuel!     I  always  like  that  bit 
best. 

SNARK.    Later,  Jeremiah.     I  won't  fail  you!  .  .  . 

What  do  these  agitators  want,  I  ask  you  ? 
Do  they  realize  they  are  driving  trade 
smack  out  of  the  country?  They  talk 
about  freedom!  What  about  freedom  of 
contract?  What  about  free  libraries?  Free 
trade?  Protection,  even!  —  Thank  God, 
Fm  no  partisan:  I  can  accommodate  my 
self  to  any  change  of  public  sentiment;  and 
generally  do!  So  long  as  there's  backbone 
to  it — financially.  But  all  this  socialism 
and  syndicalism  and  trades-union  tommy- 
rot!  What  about  the  inexorable  law  of  sup 
ply  and  demand  ?  What  about  bimetallism, 
post-impressionism,  the  differential  calcu 
lus?  And  another  thing:  If  you  divided 
out  everything  equally  to-day,  by  to-morrow 
morning  .  .  .  Well,  perhaps  you've  heard 
that  argument  before. 

I  tell  you,  the  real  trouble  with  the  work- 

ingman  is  laziness.     He  boozes,  he  beats  his 

wife,  he  gads  about  in  automobiles  stirring 

strife  and  class  hatred;  but  he  won't  work. 

[94] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Won't  what?  Where  the  devil  d'you  think 
all  these  things  come  from?  Dropped  out 
of  the  skies? 

JONES.  '  Yes,  and  who  finds  you  work  ?  Me !  Don't 
I  take  from  you  almost  everything  you 
make? 

ADAM.  You  do,  Jeremiah!  You  play  the  happy 
smiler  with  it,  before  you  give  it  to  the 
public;  but  you  certainly  do. 

DANK.     Of  course,  Jones,  as  a  mere  consumer,  I  ... 

JONES.  You  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  it, 
Dank.  Political  economy  as  it's  known  in 
business  takes  no  account  of  the  consumer. 
He  makes  what  /  find  profitable;  and  you 
get  what  you  can. 

DANK,  i  There's  a  fallacy  there  somewhere,  I'm  sure. 
JONES.     Probably!     But  I'm  in  the  trade! 

ADAM.      But  I  thought  Sammy  yonder  said  some 
thing  about  supply  and  demand. 
[95] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 

JONES.     That   argument   is    only   used   to    squelch 
the  preposterous    claims    of    the    proleta- 

r-fi-n 


ADAM.  Them  long  words  mean  me,  don't  they? 
Well  now,  supposing  I  was  to  stop  the 
supplies  ? 

JONES.  It  would  be  outrageous!  You'd  stagnate 
trade! 

ADAM.  Ungrudgingly!  Would  it  be  unconstitu 
tional,  lawyer? 

DANK.  Strictly,  no;  but  very  inconsiderate!  The 
consumer  would  certainly  object. 

ADAM.      What  does  the  consumer  do  for  me? 

JONES.  He  and  I  together  keep  you  in  bread  and 
butter;  and  I  regret  to  add — abominable 
beer! 

ADAM.  Quite  right  there,  Jerry.  The  liquor  I 
swiped  last  night  was  thick  enough  to  choke 
a  giraffe. 

[96] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK.  There's  one  thing  positive.  If  you  attempt 
ed  any  such  thing  as  you  have  hinted,  all 
Little  Boswell  would  unite  to  oppose  you. 
Yes  sir,  and  with  armed  force,  if  necessary. 

ADAM.     Whose  armed  force? 

DANK.     Why  ours,  the  constitution's,  of  course! 

ADAM.  I  thought  you  said  it  wasn't  unconstitu 
tional. 

DANK.  Don't  you  sit  sophisticating  about  the  con 
stitution  with  me,  sir!  I'm  here  for  that 
purpose.  It's  your  business  to  blow  your 
dirty  bellows,  and  obey! 

ADAM.  In  other  words,  there's  a  ruling  class  as 
runs  the  constitution  any  damned  way  it 
likes;  and  a  slaving  class  as  keeps  them 
filled  with  vittles  for  doing  so.  And  then 
you  have  the  blasted  sauce  to  call  yourselves 
a  democracy !  Why,  I  feed  all  you  sleek  fat 
loafers!  Here  am  I  sweating  out  my  giz 
zard  to  stuff  a  lot  of  nannygoats  with  tripe 
and  onions  and  all  the  luxuries  of  the  land. 
[97] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK  (angry).  Let  me  tell  you  sir,  the  consumer 
will  not  for  one  moment  brook  .  .  . 

JONES  ( shouting  him  down ) .  I  maintain  it  is 
the  employer,  the  captain  of  industry, 
who  .  .  . 

ADAM  (bellowing).  What  about  me,  the  bloke  as 
does  the  job? 

They  are  all  three  fisting  the  air. 

SNARK.  Is  all  this  going  to  degenerate  into  a  socio 
logical  discussion,  or  is  anything  going  to 
be  done?  I  want  to  see  things  moving. 
Action:  that's  my  watchword. 

ADAM.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  Hit  you  with 
a  sledge  hammer? 

SNARK.  I  want  you  to  sit  still  for  ten  minutes  if 
you  can,  you  jumping  buffalo,  while  I 
perorate  about  the  flag!  .  .  . 

Listen,  Jeremiah.  You'll  find  this  use 
ful  for  one  of  your  Pleasant  Sunday  Enter 
tainments  for  the  Young. 

[98] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JONES.  By  all  means.  You  couldn't  have  chosen 
a  more  appropriate  moment. 

He  composes  himself  beatifically;  and 
SNARK  is  about  to  blossom,  when 
DANK  worms  in; 

DANK.  The  thing  I'm  worrying  about  is:  What's 
the  woman  doing  in  the  place,  all  this  time  ? 

SNARK.  Dank,  do  you  realize  you  are  damming  the 
flow  of  a  serious  apostrophe  to  freedom? 

DANK.  Well,  but  she's  done  nothing  since  her  last 
cryptic  remark  but  sit  there  watching  us. 
I  don't  want  to  carp;  but  surely,  that's  not 
good  form.  If  she's  here  fbr  some  purpose, 
let  her  out  with  it.  If  not,  hadn't  she  bet 
ter  go  away? 

SNARK.    What  do  you  say?     Do  you  want  to? 

NAOMI.    Yes. 

But  she  remains  motionless. 

SNARK.    Well,  are  you  going? 

[99] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    No. 

SNARK.  What  do  you  propose  doing  then?  Stick 
on  that  anvil  forever? 

NAOMI.    Maybe. 

And  picking  up  the  fallen  sledge  ham 
mer,  she  sits  watching  still. 

JONES.  Snark,  never  mind  that  female  on  the  anvil. 
Tell  us  about  freedom  and  the  flag. 

SNARK.  How  the  blue-pencil  can  I  gather  my  wits 
to  tell  you  anything  with  Dank  about? 
I  never  can  open  my  head  for  a  few  pa 
triotic  observations  without  some  ass  bray 
ing!  Silly  old  messer!  Philandering  with 
women,  when  there's  work  to  be  done! 

DANK.     I  never  philandered  with  her! 

SNARK.  It  '11  take  me  till  six  o'clock  to-morrow 
morning,  as  it  is — writing  up  last  night's 
tosh:  without  wasting  time  now!  Oh,  bag 
your  head! 

[100] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK.  Not  until  you  apologize  for  defaming  my 
character,  sir! 

SNARK.  I'll  see  you  burning  first!  And  what's 
more,  here  go  twelve  thousand  nine  hun 
dred  and  forty- two  words — not  counting 
coughs  and  stammers — of  the  most  putrid 
rot  ever  spluttered  from  a  public  platform! 
There!  That's  how  much  of  you  last  night 
goes  down  the  giddy  pathway  of  immortal 


ity! 


And  he  tears  reams  from  his  note-book. 


DANK.     Good!    No  more  announcements  in  your 
yellow  rag! 

SNARK.    My  Lord,  we  can  live  without  lawyers,  so 
long  as  there's  a  theatre  in  the  world! 

DANK.    You  are  a  squeaking  puff-ball,  sir! 

SNARK.    Oh,  tut,  tut!    Gas-bag! 

DANK.     Tut,  tut,  to  you,  sir!     Scribbler! 

And  he  snaps  his  fingers  at  him  boldly. 

[101] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JONES  (mildly).  In  view  of  the  somewhat  heated 
atmosphere,  perhaps  the  moment  is  oppor 
tune  for  a  little  prayer. 

DANK  and  SNARK  jump  on  him  at 
once; 

BOTH.      No,  you  don't! 
SNARK.    We  know  your  prayers! 

JONES  (violently}.  Oh,  all  right!  Pair  of  blatant 
fire-proof  atheists,  bound  for  the  bottom 
less  abyss! 

SNARK.  Fire-proof,  blatant,  am  I  ?  Well  then,  here 
goes  Jeremiah !  And  I'll  see  the  Constituted 
Sons  with  crowns  of  glory  before  I  publish 
a  battered  semicolon! 

The  note-book  lies  demolished  on  the 
ground.  They  glower  at  one  an 
other.  ADAM  makes  himself  pleas 
ant  meanwhile; 

ADAM.      What  I  want  to  know  is:  How  much  an 

[102] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


hour  am  I  going  to  get  for  the  use  of  my 
forge  ? 

This  provides  an  outlet  for  them; 
TRIO.       Silence,  sir! 

ADAM.  Why,  I  haven't  said  more  than  half  a  dozen 
words  since  you  come  into  the  place.  And 
then  they  call  me  a  talker! 

JONES.  We  heard  enough  of  you  last  night! 
Enough  to  last  us  a  lifetime. 

He  fondles  his  black  eye. 
ADAM.     I  ... 

DANK.  It's  no  use,  your  bursting  out  like  that.  We 
will  not  listen  to  you. 

ADAM.     If ... 

SNARK.  There  he  goes  again!  He'll  keep  us  chat 
tering  here  a  twelvemonth,  if  he  can  only 
get  an  audience. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.     You  .  .  . 

TRIO.       We — will — not — listen  to  you! 

ADAM.  You  know,  you'll  be  getting  me  really  mad 
soon.  It's  about  time  I  begun  playing  the 
bull  again! 

SNARK.  Don't  listen  to  him,  lawyer.  Stop  your 
ears,  Jeremiah.  You  know  what  he  is  when 
once  he  gets  up  into  the  pulpit. 

ADAM.      Listen,  you  constituted  fatheads! 

They  begin  dancing  dithyrambs  before 
him; 

SNARK.    We  will  not!    Socialist!     Flouter  of  flags! 

JONES.  Atheist!  Blasphemer!  Person  obviously 
insincere! 

DANK.  Your  taste  is  execrable!  You  go  about 
spreading  unpalatable  ideas! 

SNARK.    I    shouldn't   wonder    if  your    uncle    stole 

[104] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


potatoes;    and  I   suspect  you  yourself  of 
hideous  immorality. 

JONES.  I  don't  like  the  cut  of  his  hair!  I  don't 
like  his  voice!  His  voice  nearly  drove  the 
MacDabble  Musical  Club  to  irrevocable 
schism ! 

SNARK.  Hypocrite!    He  talks  of  God ! 

JONES.  Egotist!    He  says,  I! 

SNARK.  Undesirable  citizen! 

JONES.  He  drinks  beer!    Swears!     Pokes  fun! 

TRIO.  Anarchist!    Grrrr!  .  .  . 

ELLEN'S  blood  cant  stand  this  any 
how; 

ELLEN.  And  who  are  you,  I'd  like  to  know,  as  can 
stand  barefaced  there,  like  a  row  of  cocoa- 
nut  shies,  calling  my  man  names? 

JONES.     Sister,  I'm  shocked!     You!  .  .  . 
8  [  105  ] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ELLEN.  Don't  you  sister  me,  Mr.  Kindface  Bottom- 
Note-of-a-Bassoon !  Nice  thing,  Little  Bos- 
weirs  coming  to,  when  a  row  of  three-a- 
penny  old  Aunt  Sallies  can  get  up  on  their 
hind  legs  and  call  my  man  names! 

DANK.     Surely  you'll  never  take  his  part  against  us? 

ELLEN.  I've  heard  of  it  being  done.  There's  a 
many  women  do  take  husbands'  parts, 
poor  fools!  I'm  respectably  joined  togeth 
er  in  holy  matrimony,  I  am;  and  I  don't 
care  who  knows  it!  Even  if  he  do  talk 
through  his  hat. 

SNARK  pounces  on  a  piece  of  note 
book; 

SNARK     (scribbling).  You  admit  that,  do  you? 

ELLEN.  I  don't  admit  nothing  to  you,  Samuel 
Snark!  I'm  not  afraid  of  your  old  news 
papers,  don't  you  believe  it!  Beware  of 
the  scribes:  the  same  shall  receive  greater 
damnation.  That's  what  the  Bible  says 
about  you. 

[106] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


SNARK.  This  pretentious  religiosity  won't  wash 
with  me! 

ELLEN.  Won't  it?  Well  then,  this  not  being  Sun 
day,  and  no  need  for  lying,  put  this  in  your 
tub  of  soap-suds! — I  never  did  like  you, 
Mr. Billy-clever-goat:  no, not  that  much ! .  .  . 

She  measures  him  the  tip  of  her  thumb; 

I  think  that  part  in  the  Little  Boswell  Free 
Press  called  "Our  Woman's  Column,"  silly! 
I  believe  it's  written  by  a  man. 

SNARK  grabs  up  a  bit  more  note-book; 
SNARK.    I'll  immortalize  you  for  that!     (Does  so.) 

ELLEN.  You!  Why,  they'll  only  know  of  you  be 
cause  I  called  you  billygoat. 

DANK.  My  good  woman,  all  these  recrimina 
tions  .  .  . 

ELLEN.  Don't  you  call  me  a  good  woman!  I'm  no 
woman  of  yours,  good  or  bad:  if  you  do 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


make  duck's  eyes  at  me,  down  chapel  yon 
der,  when  I  got  my  bonnet  on.  Bald- 
headed  old  gentleman  like  you,  as  ought 
to  know  better! 

DANK.  I  never  in  all  my  life  made  the  slightest 
improper .  . . 

ELLEN.  Oh  yes,  you  did!  Me  and  my  next-door 
neighbour  watch  for  it.  You  and  your  sly 
ways!  Oh,  you're  talked  about,  I  can  tell 
you!  You're  known  all  over  the  village 
for  a  lickerish  old  rip. 

DANK.  This  is  libel!  This  calls  for  fire  from  God! 
It  is  indictable  under  the  law. 

ADAM.  Ellen,  you're  a  wonder!  I  couldn't  'a'  done 
it  better  myself! 

She  turns  on  him,  as  on  the  others; 

ELLEN.    I  know  what  sort  of  a  wonder  I  am,  with 
out  no  honeying  from  you.     Oh,  but  I'm 
a  fool,  a  born  blind  fool,  taking  you  all  so 
serious!    Wasting  good  breath  as  might  be 
[108] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


cooking  breakfast,  on  a  cradleful  of  squab 
bling  grown  up  babies! 

ADAM.  Ellen!  D'you  mean  to  say  you  don't  dis 
cern  in  this  the  first  deep  mutterings  of  the 
revolution  ? 

ELLEN.  First  my  grandmother!  Why,  I'm  your 
wife,  man !  Little  boy's  big  talk  don't  take 
me  in! 

ADAM       (angry).  Look  here,  Ellen!  .  .  . 

ELLEN  (angrier).  Don't  you  Ellen  me!  I've  had 
enough  to  put  up  with  from  you  for  one 
day!  I'm  not  friends  with  you.  You 

know  what  for  ! 

ADAM.      But  .  .  . 

ELLEN.  Now,  you'll  only  make  me  say  things  I 
hadn't  ought  to.  You  know  what  I  am 
when  I  lose  my  head ! .  .  .  No,  I  won't!  I'm 
going  home  to  get  the  breakfast.  It  '11  be 
ready  soon  as  you  men  done  talking.  And 
it's  tripe  and  onions! 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


She  sniffs  impartially  at  all  comba 
tants,  and  is  about  to  turn  away, 
when  she  bethinks  her  of  a  word  for 
NAOMI; 

As  for  you,  you  hussy,  I've  been  watching 
you  while  these  gowks  were  gassing;  and  I 
don't  think  so  bad  of  you,  as  I  did.  I 
liked  the  way  you  give  them  beltinker, 
when  they  first  come  in.  That  bit  was  fine. 
And  the  sun  rising  and  all!  .  .  .  Lord,  if  I 
could  talk  like  you,  I'd  give  them  what  for! 
...  All  the  same,  don't  take  yon  looby  of 
mine  too  serious.  I've  seen  them  caught 
by  big  eyes  and  ear-rings  before  now.  Well, 
it  don't  last! .  .  .  You'd  best  come  down  and 
get  a  bite  before  you  go. 

Them  and  their  revolutions!  It's  about 
time  as  women  took  hold  in  Little  Bos- 
well!  Look  at  'em!  Revolutions!  Any 
baby  boy's  tin  trumpet's  loud  enough  to 
blow  down  yon  Jericho!  Lot  of  men! 

She  flounces  out  of  the  forge.  A  mo 
ment  later  >  NAOMI  follows  to  the 
doorway,  watching  her  down  the  road. 

[IIOJ 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


There  is  silence  in  Little  Eoswell  for 
half  a  second.  Then  the  vials  pour 
forth; 

JONES.  There  go  the  first-fruits  of  your  foul  teach 
ing! 

DANK.  Yes,  what  can  you  think  of  a  man,  whose 
own  wife  makes  public  parade  of  his  in 
famy? 

SNARK  (livid  with  cacoethes).  Oh,  don't  you  fear! 
His  wife's  not  going  to  escape  unscathed 
from  this !  Nor  his  friends !  Nor  his 
ox,  nor  his  ass,  nor  anything  that  is 
his! 

ADAM.  Won't  they,  you  scab,  you  muckworm,  you 
ink-blot!  Why  then,  I'll  cast  myself  and 
them  and  her  and  everything  I  have  into 
this  burning  fiery  furnace!  If  we  char  to 
ashes! 

TRIO.      We— will— not  .  .  . 

ADAM.     Listen,  do  you  hear  me!    Last  night,  it  was 

[in] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


only   punched   heads   and   bleeding   noses. 
If  I  begin  this  time  .  .  . 

And  he  snatches  up  the  sledge  hammer. 
They  scuttle  behind  the  wheelbarrow, 
each  arming  himself  with  a  brick. 

TRIO.       Don't  you  come  near  us! 

DANK.  This  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  intimi 
dation  ! 

SNARK     (top-noting  it).  It  is  sabotage  or  something! 
JONES      (abysmally).  It  is  the  reign  of  terror! 

NAOMI  turns  round,  her  eyes  gleaming. 

DANK.  Let  me  tell  you  sir,  there's  a  law  for  black 
smiths  that  go  swinging  hammers  in  peo 
ple's  faces! 

SNARK.  He's  no  blacksmith!  He's  a  street  orator 
in  disguise.  But  I'll  unmask  him! 

JONES.     He's  not  even  a  harmonious  blacksmith. 

[112] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Ask  any  member  of  the  MacDabble  Club 
down  there. 

SNARK.  I  don't  see  anything  so  wonderful  in  his 
work.  Tubal-Cain,  now!  There  was  a 
blacksmith  for  you!  But  he's  dead. 

JONES.  Blacksmith,  indeed!  I'm  in  the  iron 
mongery.  I  think  I  ought  to  know  a 
blacksmith! 

ADAM       (with  blasting  scorn).  Ironmongery! 
SNARK.    Gag  him,  somebody!     He's  beginning  again. 

JONES.  What  do  you  think  of  a  blacksmith  ham 
mering  spires  from  drain-pipes? 

TRIO.       Grrr!  .  .  . 

JONES.  What  do  you  think  of  a  blacksmith  beat 
ing  ploughs  from  sword-blades,  and  rattling 
them  in  our  ears  like  dreadnoughts? 

ADAM.  Don't  you  blaspheme  my  children,  iron 
monger! 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JONES.  You,  a  blacksmith!  You  don't  know  your 
own  trade!  You'll  never  get  a  pat  on 
the  back  for  ironwork!  You  can't  make 
things ! 

TRIO.  He  can't!  He  can't!  The  blacksmith  that 
can't  make  things!  He  can't  make  things! 

ADAM  brings  the  sledge  hammer  thun 
dering  down  upon  the  anvil,  NAOMI 
at  the  same  time  crying  aloud  for 
wild  joy.  Little  Boswell  nearly 
jumps  out  of  its  skin. 

ADAM.      Leave  your  clatter!  .  .  . 

Now,  7'ra  speaking,  do  you  hear?  And 
when  I  say  I'm  speaking,  you  know  who 
I  mean.  If  you  don't  by  now,  it's  time 
you  did. 

You're  a  liar,  ironmonger!  So  are  you 
all!  I  can  make  things!  .  .  .  What  man  is 
there  here,  as  '11  dare  to  stand  up  now, 
alone — so  as  to  be  seen,  so  as  to  be  heard, 
so  as  to  be  known  for  a  swine  all  the  rest 
of  his  days — and  say  out  loud,  again,  as  I 
can't  make  things?  .  .  . 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
quarter.  He  waits  for  every  echo  to 
die  away. 

That  sound  out  yonder  reminds  me  you 
are  liars. 

And  he  waits  again  for  silence. 
I  hear  another,  as  tells  me  I  can  make  things. 
SNARK  'waits  this  time;   but  wriggles. 

SNARK.  This  rhetorical  claptrap  won't  go  down  with 
me.  It's  too  much  in  my  own  line.  I 
know  the  trick  of  it. 

JONES.     What  was  he  hinting  at?    I  heard  nothing. 

SNARK.  Oh,  just  one  of  his  double  meanings.  That's 
what  he  does — symbolizes  to  conceal  the 
atrocity  of  his  real  intention. 

JONES.     Did  you  hear  anything,  Dank? 
DANK.     Not  so  much  as  a  tick. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.      That's    because   you    none    of  you    know 
what's  going  on  behind  you. 

They  all  whirl  round  like  dervishes. 
JONES.     I  see  nothing.     Do  you,  Dank? 
DANK      (wiping  his  pince-nez).  Not  a  speck. 

ADAM.  Why,  what's  yonder,  staring  you  in  the  eyes  ? 

DANK.  What? 

JONES.  Where? 

ADAM.  There! 

SNARK.    Come,  out  with  it!     Don't  keep  playing 
the  kipper  with  us  like  this. 

ADAM.     Well,  of  all  the  blinking  bats  I  ever  ... 

And  crossing  to  the  inner  workshop, 
he  bangs  at  the  door  with  his  fist. 

What  the  thunder  do  you  call  this? 
[116] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


TRIO.  A  door. 

ADAM  (waggling  the  chain).  And  this? 

TRIO.  A  chain. 

ADAM.  This  ? 

TRIO.  Padlock. 

ADAM.      I  should  think  so!     What's  the  use  of  Sun 
day  School,  if  they  don't  learn  you  your 
catechism  better?  .  .  . 
Now  come  and  stick  your  ears  agen  it. 

DANK.     Stick  ears!    What  for? 

ADAM.  What  do  you  usually  stick  ears  for?  To 
listen,  you  chump.  Now,  don't  keep  me 
waiting  all  day. 

SNARK.  If  you  think  I'm  going  to  make  a  limpet  of 
myself  up  against  your  door  of  doom,  you're 
jolly  well  mistaken. 

ADAM.  -  Wise  again,  Sammy!    What's  going  on  in 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


there  is  enough  to  make  you  kiss  your  pen 
and  perish! 

DANK.     My  word!    What  can  that  be? 
ADAM.      Something  as  lives  by  law. 

DANK.     Law!    Perhaps  then,  professionally,  I'm  the 
fittest  person  to  ... 

He  goes  and  glues  his  ear  to  the' door. 
ADAM      (mysteriously).  Well? .  .  . 

DANK.     Some  kind  of  mechanism,  that's  all.     Buz 
zing  and  going  plunk,  plunk,  plunk!  .  .  . 
Rather — irregular,  isn't  it? 

ADAM.     No,  that's  you.    Listen  again. 
Don't  that  tell  you  anything? 

DANK.     Not  a  word  to  me. 

JONES.     Mechanism?    Here,  let  me  come. 

SNARK'S  molluscan  simile  is  admirable. 
[118] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


A  most  unusual  noise.  What  the  Mac- 
Dabble  Club  might  report  upon  as — piffling. 
I  don't  like  it. 

ADAM.     Oh,  you  will,  Jeremiah,  when  it  pays.  They 
will,  when  the  label's  on. 

He  beckons  SNARK  invitingly; 
Now  Sammy! 

SNARK.    Not  me.     I'm  not  going  to  play  the  goat 
in  your  little  seances. 

And  he  squats  down  on  a  brick.  Which 
topples. 

JONES.     Well,  tell  us  what  it  is. 

ADAM.     Something  as  come  from  God  through  me. 

They  retire  hastily  from  the  door. 

Ay,  terrifying,  isn't  it  ?    Not  ironmongery, 
Jeremiah:  nothing  for  you  to  monkey  with. 
Your  law  don't  touch  it,  Nathaniel  Dank: 
[119] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


it's  one  of  its  own,  set  up  in  the  stars.  As 
for  you,  Sammy  Snark,  if  you  were  once 
to  understand  this  child  of  mine,  now  com 
ing  to  birth  .  .  . 

SNARK.  Well,  I'm  not  here  to  understand,  see! 
I'm  here  to  criticize. 

ADAM.  You'll  never  manage  it,  Sammy.  I've  done 
you  in  the  eye  this  time.  Oh,  it  isn't  no 
joke.  I've  made  you  something  terrible. 

SNARK.    Yes,  most  of  your  things  are. 

ADAM.  Right  again,  Sammy!  When  once  'yon 
living  spirit  leaves  this  forge,  it  will  inherit 
the  earth!  Oh,  I  know!  God  don't  whis 
per  in  my  ears  for  nothing.  Inheritance! 
That's  what  it's  singing  to  itself  in  yonder. 
Look  out  for  your  idols  in  that  day,  Little 
Boswell! 

DANK.  Yes,  I've  heard  that  sort  of  language  be 
fore.  I  know  the  dogs  that  use  it,  too.  If 
you  mean,  you  have  in  there  some  infernal 
contrivance,  some  machine  to  ... 

[120] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  I'm  no  murdering  soldier  to  blow  God's 
images  to  dust! 

DANK.  Some  of  you  are!  What  does  your  red 
flag  mean — your  contemptible  red  flag? 

ADAM.  What  Christ  means!  Freedom!  Brother 
hood! 

SNARK.  Yes,  we  know  that  brotherhood!  Strikes, 
class-hatred,  bomb-shells!  Give  me  Little 
Boswell,  say  I! 

i 

ADAM.  Yes,  we  know  that  brotherhood!  The 
trusts,  bank  panics,  high  prices,  starvation, 
sweat  shops,  white  slaveries,  ignorance, 
millionaires,  despair!  Give  me  the  brother 
hood  of  your  broken  dogs  and  harlots 
rather! 

DANK.  After  all,  the  law  makes  no  distinctions. 
We  are  all  brothers  under  the  law. 

JONES.     We  certainly  are  under  the  Gospel. 

ADAM.     Then  why  the  devil  don't  Law  and  Gospel 
9  [121] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


get  up  and  shew  it?     Instead  of  talking 
about  it. 

SNARK.    Well,  you  talk! 

ADAM.  I  only  talk  about  the  things  I've  done. 
Live  things!  You  don't  call  your  dead 
mumblings  life,  do  you?  So  many  dried- 
up  gibbering  yesterdays,  that's  all  as  comes 
up  out  of  your  wheezy  lungs!  My  child 
in  yonder  is  the  voice  that  speaks  —  To 
day! 

TRIO.       Well,  tell  us  what  it  is! 

ADAM.      I  will! .  .  . 

No,  I  won't.     I'll  shew  you. 

7  hey  trot  behind  the  wheelbarrow,  bar 
ricading  themselves;  as  ADAM,  with 
much  ominous  rattling  of  chains  and 
padlock,  undoes  and  opens  the  door. 

There  issue  forth  two  very  obvious 
musical  sounds,  alternating  regu 
larly. 

[122] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM  whispers  esoteric  ally; 
Do  you  hear  now? 

JONES.  It's  different,  now  the  door's  open.  Why, 
it's  almost — musical. 

DANK.     It  won't  go  off,  will  it? 
ADAM.     No,  it  goes  on — forever. 

SNARK.  Well,  music's  nothing  to  me:  can't  tell 
one  note  from  another.  That's  why  I  hate 
having  to  write  about  it. 

DANK.  Yes,  there  is  a  sort  of  regularity  about  it, 
danged  if  there  isn't! 

JONES.     And  it  certainly  is  tuneful.     It  might  just 
catch  the  public  .  .  . 
I'd  like  to  look  into  it. 

SNARK.  You  know,  if  you  fellows  are  going  over  in 
a  bunch  like  that,  you'll  be  making  me 
compromise! 

[123] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  That's  the  trouble  with  the  truth.  It  pulls 
so  many  liars  over  half-way. 

SNARK.  Don't  you  fret!  I'll  have  to  see  before  I 
believe.  What's  the  use  compromising,  if 
the  wind  veers  again  before  you've  raked 
in  ?  You  have  to  look  out  for  things 
like  that  when  you're  moulding  public 
opinion. 

ADAM.  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  peep  first.  It's  good 
for  you  to  be  ahead  of  the  times. 

SNARK.  Well,  seeing's  believing.  Mind  you,  if  I 
find  ... 

Half -way  to  the  door,  he  stops; 
You're  certain  everything's — all  right? 
ADAM.      Yon  is;   but  I  expect  you'll  jump  a  bit. 

SNARK.    My  Lord,  we're  used  to  jumps,  with  you! 
Well,  here  goes!  .  .  . 

He  recommences  his  journey  gingerly. 
[124] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Stop:  IVe  a  plan.  I'll  prove  you  before 
hand.  All  of  you  whip  out  your  watches. 

TRIO.      Watches!    What  for? 

ADAM.  What  d'you  suppose?  Catch  butterflies? .  .  . 
Come,  come  now!  .  .  . 

And  they  obey  like  marionettes. 

That's  better! .  .  . 

Now  stick  your  eyes  agen  them.     Ready? 

TRIO.       Ready. 

ADAM.  Now,  I'll  shew  you  something.  The  mo 
ment  I  holler  Rats,  you'll  all  be  pointing 
to  twenty-five  minutes  past  five.  Are  you 
all  ready? 

TRIO.      Yes. 

DANK.     Just  one  moment!  .  .  . 

He  puts  his  watch  to  his  ear:   winds 
[125] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


it:    rattles   it;    and  stands   at   at 
tention  with  the  others. 

SNARK.    Ass! 

ADAM.     Now!     Five  twenty-five,  remember!  .  .  . 

He  peers  into  the  darkness  of  the  work 
shop,  holding  silence  with  his  hand. 
There  is  a  long  pause,  filled  only  by 
a  crescendo  of  the  measured  music 
within. 

Rats! 

SNARK.    By  George,  he's  right! 
JONES.     Who'd  have  thought  it? 
DANK.     Incredible! 

ADAM       (eagerly).  Wasn't   I    right?     Five    twenty- 
five,  eh? 

JONES.     By  everyone  of  us. 

ADAM.     You're  sure  of  that? 

[126] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


TRIO.       Sure. 

ADAM.     Take  your  oath? 

TRIO.       Solemn  affidavit! 

ADAM  (rapturously).  Well,  you're  all  burning  liars! 
It  was  five  thirty-one. 

They  seem  unable  to  share  his  joy. 
TRIO.       Impossible! 

SNARK.  Why,  I  put  mine  right,  down  the  road,  just 
now. 

DANK.     So  did  I. 
JONES.     Me,  too. 

ADAM  (delightedly).  But  you're  wrong.  Six  whole 
minutes!  Three  hundred  and  sixty  golden 
seconds  gone  to  pot! 

DANK.     We  can't  all  be  wrong  together!    Why,  we 
all  say  the  same  thing! 
[127] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  It's  no  use,  I'll  die!  Damn  it,  can't  you 
see  how  funny  you  are? 

SNARK.  Listen,  you  cachinnating  jackass!  Can't 
you  grasp  the  first  principles  of  communal 
solidarity?  It  was  five  twenty-five.  Little 
Boswell  time.  / 

ADAM.  Well,  of  course,  if  you  take  Little  Boswell 
for  the  hub  of  the  great  cart-wheel!  .  .  . 

JONES.  Well,  isn't  it?  Why,  empires  are  made  in 
our  pattern! 

ADAM.  Lord,  listen  to  them!  Look  down  on  them! 
Don't  they  take  the  biscuit? 

He  is  of  course  addressing  his  God. 

SNARK.  What  do  you  think  Little  Boswell's  for,  but 
to  keep  time  for  the  rest  of  the  world  ?  Let 
me  tell  you,  what  Little  Boswell  thinks  to 
day,  they'll  all  think  to-morrow — or  be 
pulverized!  It's  what  we  mean!  It's 
our  destiny!  It's  what  our  gunboats 
mean! 

[128] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK.  It's  the  meaning  of  our  law,  our  religion, 
our  institutions!  Above  all,  it's  the  mean 
ing  of  that  sacred  symbol,  our  flag! 

SNARK.    Superior  to  all  other  flags! 
JONES.     Our  flag!    Heaven's  pet  flag! 
TRIO.       The  flag  of  Little  Boswell! 

They  all  three  take  off  their  hats. 

ADAM  clambers  up  into  the  skies  with 
glee; 

ADAM.  Ha-ha-ha!  Five  thirty-one  by  everlasting 
God,  the  stars,  and  all  the  powers  of  heaven, 
and  Little  Boswell  calls  it  twenty-five! 

JONES.  Sacrilegious  dog!  What  right  have  you  to 
fix  God's  time? 

ADAM.  The  right  of  a  Fellow  Workman!  Look  in 
yonder!  That's  what  right! 

They  scamper  to  the  inner  workshop, 
like  a  drove  of  vermin. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


TRIO.  What  is  it? 

JONES.  Why,  it's  only  .  .  . 

TRIO.  A  clock! 

ADAM.  God's  clock!    The  clock  I  made! 

SNARK.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,  we've  been  wast 
ing  all  this  time  over  nothing  but  a  damned 
clock  ? 

ADAM.  Ay,  with  bells  to  it!  There's  nothing  si 
lent  about  my  clock.  It's  like  me!  All 
hell  can't  stifle  it! 

Now  do  you  get  my  meaning?  Now  do 
you  understand  this  forge  and  me,  and  yon 
glad  child  of  thunder? 

SNARK.  By  all  the  devils  clamouring  for  copy,  yes, 
I  do! 

ADAM.  Well  then,  now  I've  clapped  your  puppet 
heads  together,  get  out  of  my  road,  Little 
Boswell!  Big  Boswell  is  waiting  for  its 
iron! 

[130] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


DANK.  You'll  have  to  pay  for  this,  before  long.  I 
tell  you,  the  law  .  .  . 

JONES.  You'll  have  to  pay  hereafter.  I  tell  you, 
the  Gospel  .  .  . 

ADAM.  Ay,  handcuffs  and  hell!  Little  Boswell's 
bogies ! 

SNARK.  Do  you  know  what  you  are?  Simply — 
funny!  7  don't  think  you  clever!  You're 
only  a  joke,  a  loud-lunged,  mealy-mouthed, 
improper,  mangy,  shaggy-headed  joke!  I 
can't  say  more.  But  I  will!  You  wait 
till  tomorrow  morning!  I'll  smash  you  for 
this,  my  man!  Red's  your  colour,  is  it? 
Well,  I'll  shew  you  what  yellow  signifies! 
My  God,  I'll  smash  you  to  a  pulp! 

ADAM.  Smash  and  be  damned  to  you!  My  God, 
and  all  the  morrows  of  everlasting  are  at 
the  back  of  me! 


SNARK.  I'll  write  it  up  at  once.  I'll  go  now.  No 
need  to  hear  the  end  of  this,  to  write 
it  up! 

[131! 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He  grovels  on  the  ground,  snouting  up 
scraps  of  note-book;  and  rushes  out, 
squealing,  scribbling,  blasphemous 
with  unclean  devils:  upon  his  brow, 
the  brand  of  all  the  stinking  beasts 
of  Gadara  forever. 

DANK.  As  for  me,  I'll  go  and  look  for  the  police 
man. 

He  does  so.  JEREMIAH,  about  to  fol 
low,  turns  for  a  word.  ADAM  fore 
stalls  him; 

ADAM.  No  need  to  tell  what  you'll  do,  Jerry! 
You'll  get  out  cheap  imitations  of  what's 
in  yonder,  and  sell  'em  for  God's  Time 
pieces. 

JONES.     That's  an  idea. 

He  modulates  in  the  beautiful  diapa 
son  of  an  ironmonger.  And  passes. 

ADAM  shuts  the  workshop  door.     He 
leans  against  it,  breathing  heavily. 
[132] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Well,  I've  done  it.  There  goes  my  bread 
and  butter!  Beer,  too!  I've  lost  them, 
everyone !  The  Constituted  Sons,  the  Sun 
day  School,  and  the  whole  half  dozen  Mac- 
Dabblers  and  all! 

He  goes  to  the  wheelbarrow,  and  sits 
down  disconsolately. 

God,  how  alone  I  am !    Well,  it's  worth  it ! 
NAOMI.    Alone  ? 

She  comes  and  stands  by  his  side. 

ADAM.  I  had  forgotten  you.  Where  have  you 
been  ? 

NAOMI.  Behind  you.  Watching  for  the  idol-dust 
to  settle. 

ADAM.     What  comes  next? 

NAOMI.    More  idols.     And  then — the  building! 

ADAM.      What  am  I,  one  man  alone? 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    One  man. 
ADAM.     And  you?  .  .  . 

There  is  a  shadow  in  the  big  doorway. 
It  is  JAKE. 

JAKE.      One  moment.     I  have  a  word  to  say  here. 

ADAM  turns.     NAOMI'S  eyes  grow  big 
with  apprehension. 

ADAM.      Who  are  you?     What's  your  business  here? 
JAKE.      Ask  my  mate. 

He  points  at  NAOMI.     The  day  dark 
ens. 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
half-hour. 

If  required,   the   CURTAIN   may   de 
scend  at  this  point. 

END   OF   THE   THIRD   ACT 


THE   FOURTH   ACT 

The  Scene  and  the  Situation  remain  unchanged. 
The  day  is  overcast  with  clouds  of  blood  and  bronze. 
JAKE  is  still  in  the  big  doorway.  NAOMI  stands  to 
the  right  of  the  anvil:  ADAM,  left  of  the  wheelbarrow. 

NAOMI.    I  thought  you  were — dead. 

JAKE.  So  did  I.  Maybe  I  am.  That's  what  I 
come  to  see. 

ADAM.     I  don't  follow  you.     Come  to  see  what? 
JAKE.      If  I'm  dead. 

ADAM.  How  do  you  hope  to  find  out  a  thing  like 
that,  here? 

JAKE.  By  my  fangs.  Do  you  know  what  they 
call  me?  Bloodhound.  And  I  am.  And  I 
come  to  kennel  in  this  smithy. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  This  is  no  smithy  of  the  dead.  It's  where 
they  forge  living  things. 

JAKE.  Ay,  so  you  said  last  time — when  I  found 
you  huddled  in  the  church.  You  said  it, 
time  afore  that;  and  afore,  many  times. 
Then  I  come;  and  there  was  nothing  but 
dead  bones  rattling. 

ADAM.      How  did  you  get  here? 

JAKE.  Same  road  as  her;  but  in  the  dark.  By 
scent. 

NAOMI.  I  thought  it  was  past  all  finding  out,  yon 
twisted  way! 

JAKE.  I  found  it.  I  been  following  you  ever 
since  the  hour  I  died.  You  remember  that 
hour? .  .  . 

NAOMI.  I  can  see  you  now — your  white  face  grin 
ning  up  at  the  moon  like  a  dog's. 

JAKE.  You  was  swift,  I  don't  deny  it.  I  allus 
found  you  easy  quarry  afore.  This  time, 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


you  was  like  the  wind.  You  cost  me  sum- 
mat,  this  time,  following  you.  Somehow, 
the  dead  don't  slip  along  so  lithe  as  the 
living. 

Cunning  as  a  vixen,  you  was — the  ways 
you  took.  You  knowed  I  favoured  the 
swampy  valleys,  and  the  tall  fat  weeds  of 
the  winding  rivers:  you  took  the  bleak 
moors  and  the  open  places,  up  where  the 
wind  blowed  wide  and  lost  among  the 
clouds.  But  the  breath  of  you  come  down 
to  me  in  the  mud-flats,  and  my  dead  nos 
trils  quivered.  And  I  followed. 

When  you  come  to  the  towns,  you  knowed 
I  loved  the  lurking  alleys,  and  the  dark 
backways  of  houses :  you  took  the  market 
places,  and  went  out  open,  flaunting  among 
the  folk.  But  the  flame  of  you  left  a  trail 
behind,  like  a  star  shooting.  And  my  dead 
eyes  kindled.  And  I  followed. 

Once  I  nearly  touched  you.  Remember 
that  day,  and  the  half-blind  shepherd  whose 
hut  you  helped  him  build,  and  him  thank 
less,  piping  on  a  wood  whistle  ?  Remember 
that  rattle  of  stones  behind  you  in  the 
gully?  It  was  me,  falling.  I  was  close 
10  [137] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


upon  you.  Then  the  piping  begun.  And 
I  was  on'y  a  corpse. 

Last  of  all,  I  come  by  your  warm  nest 
up  in  yon  bracken,  early  this  morning.  I 
knowed  the  scent  of  your  body,  I  seen  the 
shape — the  coil  of  it,  like  a  wild  doe's  in 
the  sweet  fern  there.  I  snuffed  out  his 
litter.  Hard  by  yours,  it  was — a  ditch  and 
hedge  between.  Then  I  begun  shifting  my 
eyes,  and  I  seen  him!  Tramping  down 
the  moorside.  I  watched;  and  there  was 
summat  stealing  after  him  —  soft  —  like 
a  shadow,  like  a  vapour,  like  a  flicker 
of  dew -fire  in  the  dawn.  It  was  you. 
And  you  followed  him  through  this 
door. 

Then  I  knowed  what  you  was  about; 
and  I  dragged  my  rotting  carcass  after 
you.  I  been  buried  among  them  holly 
hock  yonder  all  the  morning.  I  know 
everything  you  said  and  done.  Your  words 
come  bumbling  down  to  me  among  the 
worms. 

Now  you  know  how  I  come.  By  my 
nose  mostly.  Out  of  the  black  night.  Out 
of  the  mouldering  sod.  If  I'm  not  alive, 
[138] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


then  I'm  the  wraith  of  a  bloodhound!     And 
I'm  in  this  smithy. 

And   he   enters    and   stands    between 
them. 

ADAM.     You're  here  by  no  leave  of  mine. 

JAKE.       Dead  men  go  where  they  will,  without  no 
leave. 

ADAM.      Why  do  you  keep  on  calling  yourself  dead  ? 
JAKE.       She  knows. 

NAOMI.    He  was  dead.     I  seen  his  eyeballs  glaze.     I 
heard  him  rattle. 

JAKE.      You  left  too  soon.     There's  allus  some  life 
fluttering  when  you  leave  too  soon. 

NAOMI.    It  was  to  the  heart.     I  seen  it  quiver  there. 

JAKE.       I  got  no  heart. 

NAOMI.    Then  the  poison-bag  inside  you. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  There  was  a  bone,  here:  betwixt  that  bag 
— and  you. 

ADAM.   What's  that  you're  hinting?  Do  you  mean... 

JAKE.  Bloody  murder:  that's  what  I  mean.  What 
do  you  say  to  that  now?  .  .  . 

On'y — I  come  back  again.     That's  my 
way  too.    We  don't  die  so  easy,  her  and  me. 

And  he  eyes  NAOMI  narrowly. 

NAOMI  (fiercely).  What  right,  you  coming  back 
again?  What  right,  corpses  cumbering 
the  earth,  when  once  they'm  laid? 

JAKE.  Wolfs  right!  The  right  of  brute  upon  his 
mate! 

NAOMI.    I  am  no  mate  of  yours. 

JAKE.  Then  right  of  gender-wolf,  whose  whelps 
you  borne! 

NAOMI.    I  bore  no  living  thing  to  you.     What  liv 
ing  thing  was  ever  borne  of  hate  ? 
[140] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  Then  blood-wolf's  right  upon  a  brood  of 
bastards! 

NAOMI.  Ay,  call  them  bastards!  They  were  none 
of  yours.  I  bore  them  alone,  I — I  myself, 
among  the  mountains. 

JAKE.  I  lured  them  down  to  me  in  the  dank  val 
leys. 

NAOMI.  They  were  the  sons  of  heaven.  I  cradled 
them  in  the  skies. 

JAKE.      They  died  unsuckled  on  the  earth. 

NAOMI.  They  were  the  falling  of  new  stars  upon  the 
world. 

JAKE.       I  douted  them. 

NAOMI.  My  firstborn!  He  was  like  the  twilight! 
There  was  the  promise  of  peace  in  his  eyes. 
He  went  among  the  wild  things,  taming  them. 

JAKE.  He  met  a  wildness  bigger  than  he  knowed. 
It  tore  him  in  the  forest. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.  His  brother  come  like  noonday — a  child 
of  joy.  He  leapt  among  the  hills.  He 
sang. 

JAKE.  An  adder  lurking  in  the  river  reeds  mistook 
him  for  a  wood  thrush,  and  he  sang  no 
more. 

NAOMI.    My  third — that  child  of  sorrow  .  .  . 

I  can  see  him  now,  his  arms  outstretched, 
a  little  broken  sacrifice  .  .  . 

He  was  God's  daybreak!  His  love  touch 
ed  everybody.  He  filled  the  world  with 
it!  ... 

JAKE.  I  dragged  him  down  alongside  me,  a  thing 
of  shattered  dreams,  and  trampled  him! 

NAOMI     (passionately).  Where  have  you  lain  him? 
JAKE        (savagely).  In  the  ditchside,  rotting! 

NAOMI    darts    to    the    other    side    of 
ADAM; 

NAOMI.    Strangle  him! 

[142] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.    And  that  I  will!  .  .  . 

He   rushes    at   JAKE;    but   the   latter 
snatches  up  the  sledge  hammer; 

JAKE.  Hold  off  you,  blacksmith!  You'm  not  the 
first  God's  bastard  I  done  dealings  with. 
There's  more  your  breed  than  Little  Bos- 
well  breed  in  me.  Do  you  want  to  know 
what  I  am?  Hell's  bastard!  Not  the  sort 
as  makes  things.  The  sort  as  breaks.  I 
stand  for  freedom  too! 

NAOMI.  Ay,  bloodhound  freedom!  The  freedom  as 
breathes  the  air  of  death. 

JAKE.  That  '11  be  his  breathing  too,  afore  I  done 
with  him. 

NAOMI.  Not  while  he  bears  in  his  heart  his  living 
child. 

JAKE.  His  heart?  I  crept  in  there  myself  a  while 
ago. 

ADAM  puts  his  hand  to  his  breast,  in 
voluntarily. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Ay,  don't  you  know  as  dead  men  walk 
through  hearts  as  open  doors? 

ADAM.  Ha!  The  doors  of  my  heart  are  closed  and 
locked  agen  the  likes  of  you. 

JAKE.  I'm  the  ice-blast:  I  go  whistling  through 
cracks  and  keyholes.  Look  inside  you,  now. 

ADAM       (gasping).  Well — I'm  looking!  .  .  . 

JAKE.  There  where  the  blood  festers,  and  the  scar 
let  mists  are  rising.  Oh,  it  ain't  all  liv 
ing  children  inside  of  you.  There's  more 
than  clocks  and  ploughshares  kindling  in 
your  heart! — Ay,  more  than  golden  gates 
and  marble  builded  cities!  There's  me! 
There's  hate!  Now  do  you  know  me? 

ADAM  gives  a  great  cry  of  anguish. 
So!     I'm  not  dead! 
ADAM.     Get  out!    Get  out  of  this  forge! 

JAKE.       Not  till  I  done  my  deed  in  it! 

[144] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


And  he  lets  the  hammer  fall  heavily 
upon  the  anvil. 

ADAM.      Oh,  I  am  lost  in  darkness! 

NAOMI.  Lookup!  Yonder!  Big  Boswell's  waiting 
on  the  hilltop! 

JAKE.  Look  down.     Little  Boswell's  waiting,  too! 

NAOMI.  Your  child!    Unborn!     It  has  never  cried! 

JAKE.  It  lacks  the  mothering  of  Little  Boswell! 

ADAM.  God!    What  can  I  do? 

JAKE.  Do!  You  ask  what  do?  And  around  you 
the  swinging  hammers  and  the  roaring  of 
great  forges  ready!  Ha-ha-ha!  God's 
blacksmith,  God's  bastard  blacksmith, 
metal  in  his  hand! — And  he  don't  know 
what  to  do,  when  Little  Boswell  spits  upon 
him! 

ADAM.  I  do  what  I  must  do.  I  have  only  learned 
to  make  things. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.       Ay,  jangle  your  chains — slave! 

ADAM  leaps  upon  him;  but  he  is  quell 
ed  by  one  clutch  of  those  fleshless 
fingers  at  his  throat. 

Nay,  not  with  kings! 
ADAM.      Kings!  .  .  . 

And  he  reels  back,  stunned. 
JAKE.       Kings,  I  said. 
ADAM       (stupefied).  Why,  what  would  kings  do? 

JAKE.  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do.  If  Little  Bos- 
well  dealt  with  me  as  Little  Boswell  dealt 
with  you:  dead  as  I  am,  this  arm  of  mine 
should  rise  out  of  the  rot  and  slumber;  and 
forging  burning  bolts  of  iron,  I'd  smash 
them  all  to  hell!  That's  if  /  was  a  black 
smith!  That's  if  /  had  Little  Boswell  in 
the  hollow  of  my  hand.  I'd  shew  them 
what  I  meant  by  freedom !  Now  you  know 
the  sort  of  bastard,  I  am. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM  stands  agonizing  for  a  moment; 

ADAM.  But  my  child!  The  thing  I  made  for  them 
with  my  own  hands! 

JAKE.      Ay,  they  shewn  their  cherishing  of  that! 

ADAM.  Maybe,  their  children;  or  their  children's 
children  .  .  .  Someday  .  .  . 

JAKE.       Little  Boswell  breed  don't  die  out! 

ADAM.  But  it's  alive!  One  of  God's  own  images! 
Someday  they  must  see.  This  isn't  no 
dead  idol  as  I've  put  together. 

JAKE.      They'll  make  it  one,  if  it  lasts  long  enough. 

ADAM.  Maybe,  some  blacksmith,  some  man  like 
me,  centuries  to  come  .  .  .  Someone  to  get 
up  and  tell  them  .  .  . 

JAKE.      Ay,  they'll  learn  him! 

ADAM.  It  can't  be!  Not  this!  This  as  I've  made! 
Why,  I've  carried  it  inside  me,  like  a  mother. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  There's  been  other  mothers  known  their 
labour  come  to  naught. 

ADAM.  There's  my  love  upon  it.  My  own  blood 
pours  through  it.  I've  been  past  death  and 
agonies  of  hell  for  yon.  It  must  live! 

JAKE.      What!     For  Little  Boswell  to  keep  time  by? 
ADAM.     It  will  tell  them  the  truth! 
JAKE.       For  them  to  turn  to  lies! 

ADAM.  What  are  you  urging  me?  What  do  you 
want  me  to  do? 

JAKE.  Pay  back  Little  Boswell!  Blot  them  out. 
Leave  them  wrecked  in  blindness! 

ADAM.     How  can  I?  ... 
JAKE.      Yon  child  of  yourn  .  .  . 
ADAM.     Well?  .  .  . 

JAKE.       It's  struggling!    It's  nearly  born!  .  .  . 

[148] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Well?  .  .  . 

JAKE.  One  little  hour,  and  it  will  be  free! 

ADAM.  Well?  .  .  . 

JAKE.  Tear  it  to  pieces! 

ADAM.  Tear  my  .  .  . 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
three-quarters.  The  reminder  stirs 
like  poison  in  the  heart  of  ADAM. 
He  rushes  to  the  imaginary  window, 
lifting  clenched  fists  towards  the 
sound.  For  a  moment,  JAKE  pos 
sesses  him  utterly. 

Adulterous     liars!      Devil    worshippers! 
Blasphemers! 

NAOMI.  Don't  listen  to  him!  Stop  your  ears! 
You'm  lost,  if  you  listen  to  him!  Lost, 
like  all  the  others. 

She  now  stands  separating  them. 
[i49l 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM       (dazed).  Others!     What  others?  .  .  . 

JAKE.  Her  others.  You'm  not  the  first.  I'm 
first.  But  there  was  others  had  hankerings 
after  her,  afore  you  come — many  of  them. 
You'm  on'y  the  last,  as  stands  betwixt  my 
mate  and  me. 

ADAM.     Well,  what  became  of  them? 

JAKE.  They'm  gone.  Blown  to  the  winds  like 
road  dust.  Like  the  scatterings  of  chaff. 
They  and  their  bastards  with  them. 

ADAM.  What  were  they  to  her?    Them  others? 

JAKE.  She  bore  them  what  they  brought  to  bear. 

ADAM.  She?  .  .  . 

JAKE.  Ay,  my  mate. 

ADAM  looks  at  him  searchingly.  Then 
at  NAOMI.  He  is  labouring  with 
some  growing  remembrance  in  his 
mind. 

[150] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  That's  what  it  meant  then!  Down  in  them 
Roman  lead  mines.  Ay,  and  afterwards,  up 
on  the  good  green  earth.  And  yet  again, 
last  night,  on  the  moor!  .  .  . 

And  now  I  know  you,  who  you  are. 
We've  met  before,  you  and  me,  time  and 
time  again,  down  the  years;  and  each  time 
you  worsted  me.  A  shadow,  that's  what 
I  thought  it  was,  darkening  men's  minds, 
dealing  out  death  and  bloodshed,  turning 
living  deeds  to  idols.  It  was  you! 

JAKE.      Ah!  ... 

ADAM.  Others,  were  there?  Others  as  knew  her 
before  I  come!  Hell's  bloodhound!  Black 
bastard,  as  I've  wrestled  with  in  all 
my  hundred  lives!  There  were  no  oth 
ers!  There  was  only  one!  And  it  was 
me! 


JAKE.       So  be  it!    Wipe  away  them  others!  There's 
still  left  you  and  me. 

ADAM.     That's   so!    And    by   Christ's   glory,    I'm 
alive ! 

[151] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  So  were  you  afore.  Until  you  meddled 
with  my  mate. 

ADAM.  Your  mate,  is  she?  She!  This  wild  thing 
of  the  skies  and  watching  stars,  your  mate! 
Not  while  the  blood  of  yonder  hill  goes 
burning  through  my  veins!  I'll  tear  her 
from  you,  and  make  her  mine! 

JAKE.      How — yours  ? 

ADAM.  Mine  for  mating!  Mine  to  breed  by! 
Mine  for  the  peopling  of  a  new  world — of 
living  children.  Now  you  know  the  sort 
of  bastard  I  am! 

They   pause,   looking    at   each   other 
across  NAOMI. 

JAKE.       So  then,  once  again!  .  .  . 

You    understand,    blacksmith?     This    is 
death  grip  betwixt  you  and  me. 

ADAM.  I've  passed  this  way  before  —  in  blind 
ing  darkness.  This  time,  I  come  with 
flames. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.      The  fight's  for  her,  mind  you.     My  mate. 
ADAM.      For  her,  that's  true!     But  mine! 

NAOMI.  One  moment.  Look  into  my  eyes,  you, 
blacksmith.  What  do  you  see  written  there  ? 

ADAM.  I  see  a  kind  of  wildness.  Like  a  moor  bird, 
nestless. 

NAOMI.  Why  then,  yours?  What  if  I'm  still  my 
own? 

ADAM.      I'll  make  you  mine. 
NAOMI.    You?  .  .  . 
ADAM.     Ay,  for  my  mate. 
NAOMI.    You  ?  .  .  . 

ADAM.  I'll  go  along  with  you,  into  your  wild  places. 
Wandering  now  here,  now  there,  under  the 
open  sky. 

NAOMI.    Ay,  like  the  wind. 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Something    in    her    tone    makes    him 
pause; 

ADAM.     Why,  what  do  you  ask? 

NAOMI.    I  ask  a  resting-place.     Somewhere  sure  to 
abide  in. 

ADAM.      I'll  build  one  for  you.     Far  away!     Up  on 
the  bleak  moors,  you  and  me  alone. 

NAOMI.    You?  .  .  . 

ADAM.      Ay,  me.     I  said  me. 

NAOMI.    What  are  you  ? 

He  is  dumb. 
I  am  a  queen.     What  are  you? 

He  lowers  his  head. 
And  I  mate  with  none  but  kings. 

He  lifts  his  head  with  sudden  passion; 
[154] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.     Not  with  yon  king! 

NAOMI  turns  a  long  look  upon  JAKE; 
NAOMI     (calmly).  Nay,  not  with  yon  king. 

JAKE.  All  the  same,  she's  none  of  yourn — slave! 
There'll  be  no  slave's  bastards  peopling 
the  world  by  her!  No  slave's  drab,  she! 
A  queen! 

ADAM  (slowly).  Ay,  the  word  goes  home!  It's 
what  I  am.  A  slave! 

But  his  eyes  are  kindling  with  some 
new  big  birth  of  thought. 

JAKE.  And  I'm  a  king!  If  not  hers,  at  least  fit 
mate  for  her!  Now,  where's  your  boast 
ing,  blacksmith? 

ADAM.  I'm  trying  to  frame  it  right.  A  slave  can't 
fashion  boasts  so  swift  as  kings.  It's  my 
dull  wit,  the  mud  I'm  made  of!  Ay,  the 
dirt,  the  strangling  clods  out  of  which  I 
come!  That  and  the  galling  chains! 
[i55l 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  Ay,  clank  them!  Let  them  bite  well  into 
the  fierce  flesh! 

ADAM.      Ay,  they  bite  deep  enough! 

JAKE.  And  the  ancient  rust  of  them !  Like  canker, 
festering! 

ADAM.     Ah!     Slave!     Slave,  am  I?  ... 

NAOMI.  Look,  they'm  breaking!  The  iron  pulls 
like  plaited  straw!  The  links  are  severing, 
one  by  one! 

JAKE.  Ay,  but  the  blood  gushing!  Slave's  blood! 
No  blood  of  kings  to  breed  by! 

ADAM.  Ay,  no  blood  of  kings!  No  royal  poison 
creeping  through  the  veins,  to  turn  my 
heart  to  stone!  But  the  blood  from  the 
lead  mines  yonder:  the  blood  as  toiled  and 
suffered  and  bore  up  metal  out  of  the  deep 
hills:  the  blood  as  foamed  with  a  thousand 
dreams  and  doings,  taming  the  earth  and  the 
wildness  of  it!  My  blood!  Blacksmith's 
blood!  The  blood  of  a  slave!  And  as  a 
[156] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


slave,  I  claim  her!     Queen  or  no  queen, 
she  shall  breed  by  what  I  am! 

NAOMI  (exultantly).  Ay,  but  you  don't  know  what 
you  are! 

JAKE.  And  never  shall,  so  long  as  this  dead  hand 
of  mine  .  .  . 

NAOMI.    Ay,  but  by  the  golden  sun,  he  shall! 

ADAM.  A  slave,  I  am!  No  more  freedom!  Look, 
I  cast  it  from  me!  Henceforward,  I  wear 
new  chains!  Not  Little  Boswell's!  My 
own!  Of  my  own  making! 

JAKE.      Then  all  your  talk  of  freedom  .  .  . 

ADAM.  I  am  her  slave  no  longer!  She  is  mine,  to 
deal  with  as  I  will. 

JAKE.  Where  shall  you  deal  with  her?  Far  away: 
up  on  the  bleak  moors,  you  and  her  alone? 

ADAM.      Not  so.     Down  here.     In  the  thick  and  the 
bustle  of  it.     In  Little  Boswell. 
[157] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.       Ha!     Little  Boswell  will  have  a  word  to 
say  to  that. 

ADAM.     They  will  have  no  word.     It's  my  word 
only,  now. 

JAKE.       Ay,   and  win  yourself  the  Little   Boswell 
hate,  as  knows  no  peace. 

ADAM.      I  am  past  their  hate.     There's  none  of  them 
can  hurt  my  heart  any  longer.    This  is  peace. 

JAKE.  Well,  you've  paid  for  it. 

ADAM.  I  have  paid. 

JAKE.  There  is  yet  more  payment  to  come. 

ADAM.  I  am  rich.     I  will  meet  it. 

JAKE.       Last  night's  jubilee  won't  be  in  it,  with  the 
fun  ahead  of  you. 

ADAM.      The  fun  ahead  of  me  belongs  to  God. 

JAKE.       It's  Little  Boswell's  part  in  it  I'm  thinking  of. 

[158] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  Little  Boswell!  I  have  a  way  to  beggar 
them  forever. 

JAKE.       I'd  like  to  hear  it. 

ADAM.  It's  a  slave's  job,  too!  Ladders  and  cranes 
and  great  wheelbarrows !  Marble  blocks  and 
gleaming  golden  bars !  Ay,  and  mortar !  And 
a  deal  of  iron!  And  only  me  as  can  do  it! 

JAKE.       What? 

ADAM.      Build  their  city. 

He  points  up,  through  the  imaginary 
window. 

JAKE.  Ay,  a  barren  city!  A  city  of  dreams!  A 
city  with  none  to  live  in  it. 

ADAM.      Then,  like  God,  I'll  make  them. 

JAKE  (savagely).  Then  you'll  make  them  bas 
tards,  by  a  wanton! 

ADAM.      Ay,  by  one  in  scarlet. 

[i59] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE  turns  to  NAOMI; 

JAKE.       Do   you   hear   this,   you?     Have   you   no 
answer,  when  this  slave  outfaces  you? 

NAOMI.    There    is    no    answer.     I'm    my  own    no 
longer. 

JAKE.       What,  you,  the  queen  as  on'y  mates  with 
kings ! 

NAOMI.    I  have  found  one. 

ADAM       (wonderingly) .  Found — who? 

NAOMI.    The  king  I  watched  for. 

They   are  apart,   gazing  at  one  an 
other. 

JAKE  has  been  standing  all  this  time, 
rigid,  motionless,  grasping  the  han 
dle  of  the  hammer,  as  when  first  it 
fell  upon  the  anvil.  He  now  lets 
it  drop.  It  clatters  from  his  nerve 
less  fingers  to  the  ground. 
[160] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.       So!  ...     It  was  death. 

They  pay  no  heed  to  him.     Their  eyes 
are  bent  upon  each  other. 

Maybe,  some  lingering  spark  .  .  .  Some 
mummied  bone,  unwithering  .  .  . 

NAOMI  and  ADAM  are  wandering,  high 
up  on  the  moor. 

NAOMI.    I  waited  through  the  long  night,  watch 
ing! 

ADAM.      I  lay  in  darkness,  and  I  never  knew. 

NAOMI.    I  come  like  a  wild  thing  to  the  lair  of  you; 
and  nestled  there. 

ADAM.      I  dreamed  of  stars,  and  woke  again  and 
lost  you. 

NAOMI.    I  come  in  the  morning  before  the  break  of 
dawn. 

ADAM.     And  the  dawn  broke;    and  it's — Today! 

[161] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


JAKE.  Harkee  to  this  voice,  you  two.  It's  from 
the  grave.  I  am  gone  from  you.  But 
beware!  One  slip,  one  halting  step  here 
after;  and  I  am  back  again.  My  sort 
don't  fall  and  rot  away  to  dust  and  vapour, 
evermore!  .  .  . 

His  voice  is  like  a  far-off  stirring  of 
wind  among  dry  leaves,  down  in  the 
valleys.  They  have  never  heard  him. 

ADAM.      Today,  and  the  good  sweat  and  toil  of  it! 
NAOMI.    And  beyond  today — Tomorrow! 

The  sun  bursts  through  the  clouds  and 
falls  upon  them.  JAKE  watches  for 
a  moment,  his  eyelids  faltering;  and 
he  slips  noiselessly  away. 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  six. 

If  required,  the  CURTAIN  may  de 
scend  at  this  point. 

END   OF  THE    FOURTH   ACT 


THE  FIFTH  ACT 

The  Scene  and  the  Situation  remain  unchanged. 
The  day  is  golden  with  sunlight.  NAOMI  and  ADAM 
are  alone  in  the  forge. 

ADAM.  And  now  for  the  real  jubilee  to  begin.  I 
needn't  wait  for  tomorrow  morning.  There's 
plenty  for  me  to  go  on  with,  out  there,  just 
now. 

A  sound  comes  back  at  him,  through 
the  imaginary  window. 

There!     Do  you  hear  them? 

NAOMI.  Ay,  they're  beginning  to  wake  up.  Some 
on  'em  have  been  wriggling  since  cock-crow. 

ADAM.  Well,  I'm  ready  for  them.  I'm  ready  for 
the  worst  as  Little  Boswell's  heart  can 
offer  me. 

[163] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    What  if  it's  the  best? 
ADAM.     How  best? 

NAOMI.  Why,  what  if  it's  Big  Boswell's  heart  you 
hear  awaking  yonder? 

ADAM.     God!    I'm  ready  for  that,  too! 

NAOMI.  Believe  it!  Don't  you  hear  the  sound  of  it 
thickening  through  the  air? 

ADAM.  I — don't — know!  I've  told  these  people 
things  before.  Many  times.  Why,  it  was 
me,  six  years  ago,  as  called  them  here,  and 
told  them  of  the  brotherhood  of  man. 

NAOMI.    Well,  didn't  they  listen  to  you,  that  time? 

ADAM.  Ay,  at  first,  while  I  was  new  to  them.  Then 
they  turned  again  to  idols;  and  twisted  my 
plain  meaning  into  tracts  for  Sunday  School. 
I  up  and  spoke  again,  and  told  them  of  the 
lies  and  hate  they  lived  by.  Shewed  them 
the  death  and  bitterness  of  it! — Well,  they 
soon  let  me  know  about  that.  I  preached 
[164] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


their  own  God's  gospel  to  them,  and  brought 
Christ's  Murder  to  their  blood-stained  doors. 
They  spat  upon  me.  I  told  them  of  the 
lusts  as  fed  their  brothels;  and  every  red- 
eyed  wolf  among  them  said  I  lied.  Even 
when  they  didn't  speak,  I  knew  the  mean 
ing  of  their  leering  silence.  This  time,  it's 
freedom — the  thing  they're  always  brag 
ging  of;  and  as  long  as  I'm  in  the  world, 
they'll  have  it  dinned  into  their  heads, 
as  freedom  isn't  all  a  matter  of  flags  and 
soldiers'  pop-guns.  It's  something  they've 
got  to  sweat  for.  Don't  you  think  they're 
going  to  get  off  easy,  once  I  see  them  stuck 
in  front  of  me ! 

Oh,  I  make  them  laugh,  all  right.  They 
want  to  be  amused.  Lot  of  jaded  johnnies! 
Everyone  of  them  thinking  I  mean  his  next- 
door  neighbour;  and  I  mean  just  him! 

NAOMI.    And  what  about  yourself? 

He  turns  upon  her  with  delighted  sur 
prise; 

ADAM.      Now,  you're  the  first  person  as  ever  had 

[165] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


the  gumption  to  tax  me  that  way.  Why, 
you  might  be  my  wife!  .  .  . 

Oh,  but  you're  right,  all  right.  A  man 
don't  carry  on  the  style  I  do,  unless  he  felt 
the  bite  of  all  these  things  inside  himself. 
Mind  you,  I  wouldn't  have  them  know 
that!  .  .  . 

All  the  same,  I'm  different.  Mine's  the 
case  of  the  repentant  sinner,  if  I  do  seem 
to  say :  Thank  God,  Pm  not  as  other  men  ! 
Oh,  I'm  religious,  right  enough!  Even 
Snark  squeaks  that  about  me.  Calls  me 
Reverend  I 

NAOMI.    You're  talking  about  yourself  a  long  time, 
master? 

ADAM.  Well,  haven't  I  the  right  to  talk  about  my 
self?  Look  what  I've  done!  I'd  like  to 
see  any  of  them  out  there  get  up  and  dare 
to  do  what  I've  been  doing  here  to-day. 
They'd  soon  learn  about  it!  You  ought  to 
know  better  than  anybody!  Why,  woman 
— and  mind  you,  I'm  dead  in  earnest  now — 
it's  been  you,  watching  over  me,  caring  for 
me,  suffering  with  me,  while  these  putrid 
[166] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


curs  kicked  up  their  mud  at  me,  as  made  me 
the  mighty  thing  I  am!  Oh,  you  know! 
And  I  know  too !  Do  you  think  I  mind  the 
hatred  of  the  whole  blind  world  of  them,  so 
long  as  I  have  you  ? 

NAOMI.   You  have  me,  beyond  this  whole  blind  world. 

ADAM.  What  does  Little  Boswell  know  of  the 
things  as  you  and  me  know?  They  can't 
begin  to  dream! 

NAOMI.  Ay,  it  isn't  easy,  holding  up  high  banners 
in  the  air! 

ADAM.  We  have  wrought  together,  you  and  me, 
deep  down  in  the  earth!  In  the  unknown! 
In  the  hidden  places! 

NAOMI.  We  have  torn  God's  secrets  from  the  cloud 
ed  heavens! 

ADAM.  We  have  builded!  We  have  put  together! 
We  have  borne  living  children! 

NAOMI.    And  when  the  world  has  flouted  us,  we  have 
poured  upon  them  untold  riches! 
[167] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


ADAM.  They  do  not  know  the  weeping  and  the 
labour! 

NAOMI.  They  do  not  know  the  laughter  and  the 
sweetness ! 

ADAM.      The  sorrows  of  it! 
NAOMI.    The  glories  of  it! 
ADAM.      The  downfalls! 

NAOMI.  The  upliftings!  The  flames  of  the  sky  are 
burning,  and  they  do  not  see  them! 

ADAM.  The  winds  of  the  earth  are  singing,  and 
they  never  hear  them! 

NAOMI.  But  they  shall!  The  day  is  coming!  It  is 
come! 

ADAM.  Nay,  not  for  them!  Not  Little  Boswell! 
Their  eyes  are  bound :  their  ears  are  stopped 
with  clay! 

NAOMI.    Nay,  but  Big  Boswell!    They  shall  wake, 
and  be  alive,  and  understand  forever!  .  .  . 
[168] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


Hark!     I  can  hear  them  now! 

She    rushes    to    the    imaginary    win 
dow; 

Look!     They  are  awake!     They  are  up 
and  buzzing! 

ADAM.      Where?  .  .  . 

And  he  joins  her  at  the  window. 

NAOMI.  Out  yonder!  They  are  gathered  in  the 
open  place  below  there! 

ADAM.  Why,  it's  swarming  with  them!  There 
must  be  hundreds! 

NAOMI.  Ay,  and  beyond  them,  thousands  trailing 
along  the  valley! 

ADAM.  Look!  Their  eyes  are  bent  this  way!  It's 
about  me!  See!  They're  bound  for  the 
forge.  Well,  I'm  ready  for  them! 

He  seizes  the  sledge  hammer. 
12 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    Speak  to  them,  through  the  window! 
ADAM.      What  shall  I  tell  them? 

NAOMI.    Tell  them  what  you've  always  told  them. 
Tell  them  the  truth. 

ADAM.     God  help  me  now,  I  will! 

And  the  imaginary  window  is  flung  as 
it  were  wide  open.  ADAM  addresses 
the  crowd  outside; 

Well,  I'm  here.  In  the  same  old  place. 
Doing  the  same  old  job.  Forging  iron  for 
you.  You  needn't  look  for  tin  nor  paste 
nor  putty  in  this  smithy!  Iron!  That's 
my  trade.  That's  why  I'm  here.  And  you 
won't  find  me  skulking  away. 

What  I'd  like  to  know  is:  What  are  you 
here  for?  What  are  you?  Are  you  Little 
Boswell  come  with  stones  to  kill  one  more 
of  God's  high  voices  ?  .  .  . 

Or  are  you  Big  Boswell  come  with  guts 
of  living  thunder  ?  .  .  . 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


He  considers  them  a  moment,  without 
speaking. 

Look  at  me,  you !  Big  Boswell  and  Little 
Boswell  together.  I'm  your  blacksmith! 
I'm  the  man  as  works  for  you.  And  I'll 
talk  about  my  work  first. 

Fm  the  maker  of  it:  not  you.  And  I'll 
make,  my  way:  the  way  God  shewed  me. 
It's  ancient  way  enough,  if  you  knew  the 
signs.  There's  nothing  novel  in  my  mak 
ing:  it's  as  old  as  the  hills — and  as  lasting. 
But  that's  our  secret  only — the  Workers 
as  Know  How!  Not  ironmongers!  Not 
penny-a-lines !  Not  little  pups  from  Sun 
day  School !  All  the  same,  it's  yours —  To 
enjoy,  if  you've  not  forgotten  how!  It's 
no  longer  mine,  the  moment  I  got  it  done. 
I  make  for  you!  What  are  you  going  to 
give  me  back  again?  Dirt  and  swineyard 
offal?  Or  my  wages? 

He  pauses  to  take  breath. 

And  next,  I'll  talk  about  myself.    Yes, 
that's  been  Little  Boswell's  pet  joke,  six 
[171] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


years  now:  it's  getting  stale.  That  and 
the  blasphemy  wheeze.  Well,  here's  a  bit 
of  both  for  you.  When  I  say  myself — as 
I  sometimes  do — I'm  speaking  of  Someone 
a  long  sight  bigger  than  me  here.  I  mean 
God!  Yes,  I  thought  that  'd  get  some  on 
you !  ...  If  you  know  your  Bibles,  if  you 
know  the  meaning  of  your  own  religions, 
Jew  or  Christian,  you'll  understand.  If 
you  don't,  I  might  be  Pope  of  Rome  and 
Moses  on  the  Mountain  all  in  one,  and  you'd 
never  tumble.  Don't  you  see  I'm  trying 
to  save  your  damned  souls?  Shewing  the 
bottom  truth  of  what's  inside  yourselves! 
When  I  say  Me  most,  I  mean  You  more! 
Though  I'm  jiggered  if  some  of  you  de 
serve  it!  ... 

He  pauses  again. 

And  last  of  all,  I'll  tell  you  of  this  thing 
being  born  to-day.  It's  a  living  child,  re 
member.  The  labours  are  all  over:  no 
more  anguish :  another  moment,  and  it  will 
be  free.  But  I  see  a  Shadow  waiting  for 
it:  something  dead  and  mouldering  in  the 
[172] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


earth,  rotten,  green  with  envy,  yellow  with 
decay,  pretending  to  be  alive!  Something 
pledged  to  strangle  it!  Something  as  come 
here  for  just  that  purpose!  Rat-like, 
squeaking!  Oh,  it's  poisonous,  powerful — 
I  don't  deny  it!  But  I  alone — one  man 
alone — this  day  have  dared  to  grapple 
with  it!  People  of  Big  Boswell,  I  made  it 
for  love  of  you !  Shall  they  strangle  it  ? 

The  People  of  Big  Boswell  answer. 

Then  I  am  alone  no  longer!     If  it  were 
only  ten  of  us,  the  city  has  begun. 

NAOMI.    Hark! 

The  Sunday  School  clock  drones  the 
quarter. 

ADAM.     What  does  yon  mean  now?    It's  dead  and 
done  for! 

NAOMI.    It  means  my  work  is  over.     And  I  must 
wander  on  again. 

ADAM.      What,  leave  me  now? 

[173] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


NAOMI.    I  shall  be  with  you  always. 

ADAM.      Where    are    you    going?     What    are    you 
going  to  do? 

NAOMI.   To  strike  the  true  hour.    All  over  the  world. 
ADAM.     Oh,  Scarlet  Woman!  .  .  . 

NAOMI.    Blacksmith!  .  .  . 

It's  been  a  long  journey,  you  and  me  to 
gether,  today,  mate. 

ADAM.     Journey?  .  .  . 

NAOMI.    Ay,  a  man  may  move  a  lot  in  one  short 
hour,  and  him  never  shifting  a  foot. 
And  that's  what  you  done  to-day. 

They  are  widening  apart  slowly,  their 
eyes  fixed  on  each  other. 

ADAM.     I  have  known  you  all  my  days,  Scarlet 
Woman;   and  now  you're  mine. 

NAOMI.    You  shall  know  me  when  the  last  star  is 

[174] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


shivered  into  dust.     And  I  shall  be  yours, 
blacksmith. 

ADAM.     Oh,  you  are  fading  from  me!    What  are 
you?     Only  a  dream;   or  something  real? 

NAOMI.    Nay,  I'm  real  enough,  for  them  as  want 
me! 

ADAM.     And  yet  ... 

Why,  I've  never  so  much  as  touched  you! 
You've  been  here  .  .  .  and  there  .  .  .  and 
moving  about  like  flame,  like  music;  and 
yet  ... 

I've  never  even  kissed  you  on  the  lips. 

NAOMI.    Haven't  you?     Why,  I've  borne  you,  your 
child.     Watch  it,  blacksmith. 
Good  luck,  mate. 

She  fastens  her  eyes  upon  him  for  the 
last  time,  and  is  gone. 


My  child!    It  has  never  cried  yet!     But  it 
shall!     It's  coming  to  life!     She  shall  hear 
it!     It  shall  echo  in  her  heart  and  comfort 
[175] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


her  forever!  They  shall  all  hear  it!  Ay, 
even  Little  Boswell,  this  time!  They  shall 
hear  it  through  the  world! 

He  goes  to  the  inner  workshop  and 
flings  open  the  door; 

Let  your  lungs  free,  people  of  Big  Bos- 
well!  Not  for  me!  It's  not  my  child, 
merely!  It  is  the  child  of  God! 

He  rushes  into  the  workshop.  A  mo 
ment  later,  there  comes  crying  out 
of  it  a  great  chord  of  bells. 

The  CURTAIN  descends. 


END    OF   THE    FIFTH   ACT 


THE  QUINTETTE 

(See  page  89) 

The  following    cacophonies,    well    rendered,    it    is 
hoped  may  prove  pleasing  to  the  futurist  ear; 

SNARK  (ist  soprano).  I'll  editorialize  you  for  that 
remark!  Yes,  I  will!  I'll  make  scare- 
heads  of  you!  Fll  leave  you  without  a 
shred  of  honour  to  your  name!  Oh,  I'll 
not  be  silent  about  it!  I'll  be  an  eagle, 
and  scream  you  in  the  sun!  .  .  . 

ELLEN  (2nd  soprano).  Don't  you  think  you're 
going  to  top -note  me  out  of  my  bad 
opinion  of  you!  Not  if  I  know  it!  I  can 
scream  as  loud  as  you,  and  will!  You,  a 
man!  Why,  you're  only  a  bad  slate- 
pencil,  squeaking  like  a  whistle! 

DANK      (tenor e  buffo).  This  will   never  do!     It  is 

[177] 


THE    IDOL-BREAKER 


contrary  to  all  tradition!  It  is  not  done! 
Please,  please!  Gentlemen,  please,  please, 
please!  .  .  . 

ADAM       (baritone).   Under   the   spreading   chestnut 

tree, 
The  village  smithy  stands: 

The  smith,  a  mighty  man  is  he, 
With  large  and  sinewy  hands. 

He  sings  it,  accompanying  himself  on 
an  old  tin  kettle. 

JONES  (basso-prof ondo).  Is  this  to  be  last  night's 
pandemonium  all  over  again,  or  is  it  not 
to  be?  To  be  or  not  to  be:  that  is  the 
question ! 

They  continue   ad   lib.y  until   DANK 
wins  out. 


THE    END 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


